


Layer on Layer

by TeaAndATale



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Agent Carter and CA:TFA characters in the 21st century, Anger, Coping, F/M, Friendship, Military Backstory, Modern AU, Painting, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steggy - Freeform, Various Veteran Issues Discussed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2017-05-23
Packaged: 2018-08-11 12:15:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 90,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7891939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeaAndATale/pseuds/TeaAndATale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peggy works long hours at SHIELD so she doesn't have time for Howard Stark's nonsense, like how he decides to remodel her loft without telling her about it. Steve has had a rough time adjusting back to civilian life, but he finds himself working as a painter for the construction crew, where he finds himself with a crush on the woman who lives in the apartment he’s painting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There will be five or six chapters, depending on how the editing goes.

 

 **“It’s true,” he continued, “that both you and paintings are layered.”**  
**― Steve Martin, _An Object of Beauty_**

 

 

“No!” Peggy said forcefully into her phone as she walked through her building’s lobby, past the mailboxes, finally jabbing at the up button for the elevator. “Absolutely no way that is happening on my watch,” she continued, tapping impatiently for the elevator.

“Is Brandt still on the line? Transfer me.” Peggy spotted someone standing near her out of the periphery but before she looked over, she heard a voice coming through the line drawing her attention anew. “Ah, yes. Senator Brandt. My team seems to be under the impression that you will not be honoring your agreement in regards to the case at hand.”

The elevator chimed and Peggy stepped into it the second the doors opened. She automatically hit the button for the top floor as she listened to Brandt ramble on and on over his excuses, rolling her eyes to herself as she half-listened to his platitudes, studying her nails instead.

She was irritated, hungry and her headache was growing with every second she had to deal with moronic civil servants who acted like entitled children giving her team a run-around.

“Yes, I understand that you are on a number of committees. But seeing as it is your job, your duty— Excuse me, I’m quite sure my name is Ms. Carter and not Sugar, or Darling. Listen Senator, you will not bully me into silence or letting you shirk your patriotic duty. You made a vow to your constituents and to the tax-payers of this country. Given my understanding that you are a man of your word, I will therefore consider the matter settled and have my team await your call tomorrow. Lovely, I will have Rose look forward to receiving your call.”

Peggy rolled her eyes again and sighed loudly as the mouthy Senator hung up. “Wanker,” she muttered while she waited for Rose to pick up the line again, seeming to hear someone chuckle behind her. She tilted her head to check but then before she could get a good look, she heard her name being called.

 “Ah Rose, there you are. Brandt will call you with the details in the morning. Of course I did. You know I don’t care for politicians’ attitude for being willy-nilly about choosing their responsibilities. He chose this profession. Lobbied for it. Therefore someone needs to hold him to his duties.”

“No I don’t care what he thinks of me as long as the mission is accomplished,” she told Rose as she stepped off the elevator, only now realizing that someone had ridden the elevator with her all the way to the top floor. A man with light colored hair. Which was strange since only her apartment was on the top floor… “Never you mind, Rose. It doesn’t matter. I know my value and anyone else’s opinion doesn’t really matter.”

She was so distracted over the latest bump in her latest assignment, and smoothing things over with her team back at headquarters, that she had missed the tools lining the hallway to her doorway and the men in hardhats and masks milling about until she was in the middle of her foyer.

“What in the –” She gasped at the sight of her loft filled with burly men and her furniture covered in plastic sheets, the image beyond comprehension. “Rose, I'm going to have to call you back."

She stood there helplessly as she watched some guy scraping the paint off her walls, another measuring them for some reason, and another already drilling holes.

"Uh, excuse me," she called out. "What in the bloody hell are you doing in my house?"

One of the men, a stout-man with a full tool-belt looks over at her.

"The remodel," he said.

“Remodel? What remodel? Who said anything about a—” Peggy cursed as realization dawned on her. "Stark," she said through gritted teeth.

"Yes ma'am. Are you the tenant? Mr. Stark didn't give you notice that we were starting the work today?"

Howard Bloody Stark didn't tell me at all, Peggy thought.

"Yes, he failed to mention it. Excuse me a moment," Peggy said, moving back into the hallway to call Howard.

"Yeah what do you want? Make it snappy, I'm working on the perfect Bloody Mary," Howard said a moment later.

"Oh I apologize for breaking you away from such important work," she said sarcastically. "What in the bloody hell are you doing to my living space Howard?!"

"Peggy?"

"Of course it's me! Why is there a group of strange men in my apartment?"

"Oh the remodel."

"If I hear that one more time," she said, exasperated. "What remodel? I don't need a remodel, Howard. What I need is a quiet place to come to after my stressful job."

“Definitely needs more vodka.” She could hear Stark audibly drinking what was probably his Bloody Mary, on the line. "Relax Peg. I needed a project. And that loft has never quite lived up to the Howard Stark standards. Frankly it’s a real estate embarrassment."

Peggy made a point of looking around the elegant hallway leading to the loft, plush carpeting, elegant light fixtures bracketing large paintings, and large vases of fresh flowers. Granted it was now littered with drills, buckets and tool boxes, it was still one of the most lavish hallways she had ever encountered.

“You’re mad. Or drunk. And all well before noon.”

“Definitely not drunk. This is only my second attempt at refining my recipe. Probably best if I had some Tabasco. You know how I like it spicy.”

Peggy huffed. “And how long is this remodel supposed to take?”

"Good question Peg. Couple weeks. You know construction crews, always giving you a projected finish date and then adding a week on top of it. Sometimes twice."

"Howard!" she hissed, trying to calm herself before she unloaded on him in full view of the workers. "Weeks? What the hell am I supposed to do? I cannot work from home like this. Hell how am I supposed to do anything?"

"Relax. They're only supposed to work while you're at work."

"I don't exactly keep regular hours Howard," she seethed.

"Explains why you're there right now."

"Howard!"

"Then you'll spend a few days at a hotel. You can use my suite at the Plaza. Oh that’s perfect! They've got high tea there. You'll feel right at home."

"No! I want to come home to my own bed Howard. Call the guy in charge and you tell him you will pay him whatever he needs to get this done as soon as bloody possible."

"Peg-"

"I mean it Stark. Don't make me come over there and hurt you."

"Alright, alright woman. Jesus, you'd think you'd thank me for trying to pimp your place up."

"Now!" she growled, hanging up on him.

Peggy took a moment to take a deep breath.

Howard Stark will be the death of me, she thought.

She needed some coffee and a nap but it looked like she would have to wait on the latter. There's no chance she'll fall asleep in all the racket.

By the time she made it back inside her apartment, the guy with the tool belt she met earlier was on the phone.

Good, Peggy thought, looking around her usually, while not pristine but tidy and empty loft, now teeming with bulky guys and debris.

"Uh, Ms. Carter?" the guy called, just as Peggy noticed a blond man carrying large buckets into the room, nodding at her in a wordless polite greeting. He looked familiar, oddly enough. And for some reason she found herself watching him as he set down the buckets and started walking back toward the hallway.

"Yes," she answered slowly, tearing her eyes away from the blond. "It's Peggy actually."

"Right. Marcus Miller,” he held out his hand, “I’m the general contractor. Stark told me you wanted to get back to normal as soon as possible. I'm going to make sure my guys here make this as quick and unintrusive as possible. We'll start with the bedroom, get it finished for you first so you can sleep there."

"Excellent. I appreciate that."

"That being said, you'll want to go pack your bag."

"My what?"

"Bad idea to stay in such a poorly ventilated room while we're working on it."

"What… Well where am I supposed to go?"

The guy looked at her with confusion. "Stark said he had arrangements made for you for the next two days."

Peggy opened her mouth in retort just as her phone started to ring. Edwin Jarvis it read.

“Tell Howard I'm going to kill him,” she said as a greeting.

"Duly noted Ms. Carter. I am to pick you up in twenty minutes.”

“Mr. Jarvis, have you any idea why Howard has decided to remodel my apartment out of the blue?”

She listened to Jarvis make a noncommittal sound before sighing. “As you may have heard, Arlene French broke things off with Mr. Stark, quite publicly in fact, and I dare say he’s taking it quite hard.”

Peggy rolled her eyes for the umpteenth time that morning. “So because Howard’s latest fling didn’t last more than a nanosecond, he’s taking it out on me?”

“Well,” Jarvis started, full of the sympathy she had expected of Howard’s butler, “he needs a project to immerse himself in as a distraction from other more self-destructive behavior. And quite frankly Ms. Carter, none of his recent tinkering has proven fruitful.”

Peggy sighed, one hand on her hip as she mentally cursed the absurdity of Howard Stark’s stunted playboy persona pulling her out of her home.

“Mr. Stark said you turned down his offer of the Plaza, so I think you'll find the Stark Residence's guest wing a perfect place to spend two nights, as you are already familiar with the location."

"Fine," Peggy snapped. "See you in twenty Mr. Jarvis."

Peggy cursed again, turned on her heel and headed into her bedroom. She was in the middle of packing up her bag when she heard a knock at the door.

"Yes?" she called distractedly.

The door cracked open and she saw the blond man she had noticed earlier. He had extremely long lashes framing his brilliantly blue eyes.

"Excuse me," he started. "Is it okay if I come in? Boss said we were painting this room first so I'm supposed to bring the paint in."

She was surprised by his soft voice and manners. "Yes, of course. Come in."

He was holding two paint cans and a tray and rollers under his arm, all seemingly with ease, setting them down near the doorway. He did seem to be very muscular. Peggy watched as he arranged the supplies to his liking and took a few paint brushes out the back pockets of his blue jeans.

He was quite young, she noticed, clean shaved, his hair neatly parted. He seemed to have a broad build, but something about it didn’t scream construction worker. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, those gentle features and the muscular build. He was unfairly handsome. And there was something in his face that drew her attention, especially when he looked up only to meet her gaze and then proceeded to quickly blush and look away. It was only when she returned her attention to her task that she realized she was holding her underthings in her hand. Black. Lacy. Her hands must have had a mind of their own because she could have sworn she had just been sorting through her very plain and uninteresting sleep shirts.

She found herself fishing for something to say to him as he avoided her gaze and returned to the painting supplies.

"You don't happen to know if I should be worried about outlandish paint colors on my walls, do you?" she asked.

He turned back toward her and picked up one of the cans. "Casa Blanca," he read.

"You're kidding. Who names these? Humphrey Bogart?"

The man chuckled. She liked the sound of it, the way his eyed crinkled in amusement. Suddenly, Peggy realized that this was the person that had ridden the elevator with her. She recognized the chuckle. For some reason this made him even more intriguing.

"And the other?"

"Accent color," he noted before picking up the other can. "Adriatic Sea."

"Hmm... Doesn't quite add up," she said.

He grinned. "I’ll make sure it looks great."

She had a mind to explain her reference to the famous movie from the forties, but thought better of it. It was no surprise that most people didn’t know all the same old classic Hollywood films she preferred.

"Rogers!" she heard someone call through the apartment. The blond man turned and called back, saying that he'd be right there.

"I promise to make the paint job look perfect ma'am," he said echoing his last assurance.

Peggy sighed playfully. "Well if Stark must paint, I suppose it'll do."

Rogers shrugged with a half-smile. "At least this way you'll always have Paris."

She grinned appreciatively at this unexpected comment, biting her lip and eyes following him as he walked away.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologizes for the wait, but this story had a mind of it's own and has morphed into a bit more than originally planned, so it'll likely be longer than planned.  
> This chapter is fairly gritty and grim, with unhappy discussions of veteran issues, but I promise happy times coming in the near future.

 

 **“There is something beautiful about a blank canvas, the nothingness of the beginning that is so simple and breathtakingly pure. It’s the paint that changes its meaning and the hand that creates the story. Every piece begins the same, but in the end they are all uniquely different.”**  
**― Piper Payne**

 

 

Steve pulled at a long slip of blue tape, effortlessly unsticking in one easy stroke, leaving behind a very satisfying straight line –where Casa Blanca meets the Adriatic Sea. He snorted at the thought. His mind easily drifted from wondering if Sherman Williams had an Atlantic Ocean paint color, to remembering the quirk in Ms. Carter’s red lips when she had made the humorous remark, referencing one of his favorite movies.

Going to work had become more than just something to keep him occupied during the waking hours now that he was working on Peggy Carter’s loft. Painting her bedroom became an exciting challenge, and he was dedicated to making her love her freshly redone bedroom.

In the last two days, Steve thought a lot about the woman whose room he’d been painting. He wondered about where she worked. He was curious about her accent. Obviously she was British, but had she been in New York long? What brought her over?

Steve prided himself on always putting his all into every job, but he had been particularly careful with her room. And yet, he tried to picture the woman here, not inappropriately, shaking his head at himself at the mere thought of being a creep, but to learn more of her. He found it particularly difficult, given that her room was devoid of personal touches. And he would not, could not, dare to snoop beyond what was readily visible.

The furnishings, while elegant and all matching, told him nothing except that they were obviously not purchased at Ikea. Her desk looked to be made of real mahogany. The desk he had put together in his own room was probably more plastic than wood. But given that the building belonged to Howard Stark, Steve couldn’t really be surprised.

He found himself wondering about that connection too. He knew Stark from his military contracts. While he had never actually met the man while deployed in the Middle East, Stark had flown in several times to distribute gear and have photo ops with personnel around the base. But he also knew Stark’s other claim to fame, his playboy persona of international proportions.

 _Maybe she’s seeing him_ , Steve thought with a frown. _Maybe that’s how she scored this incredible apartment._

Maybe it was just wishful thinking to think that she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would want to be one of Howard Stark’s flings.

Her bureau, while showcasing what looked to be a bottle of perfume and a few other beauty products, was otherwise sparse. Usually, this sort of lack of personal touch meant a lack of a personality. But the severe austerity didn’t match the immediate impression Peggy made. In Peggy’s case, it pointed to a woman who hardly spent any time at home. That made sense given his guess, based on her phone conversation and her smart attire, that she was a lawyer of some kind.

None of this would normally be anything Steve would even think to remark upon. But this woman… He was drawn to her. Captivated. Intrigued. He was merely a moth headed toward the flickering warmth of a flame. He remembered how he found himself mesmerized from the moment he overheard her impassioned argument into her phone, oblivious to him standing there in the elevator with her, not out of indifference but because she had been so narrowly focused.

Steve couldn’t remember the last time he was so utterly affected by a woman. Definitely not in the five plus months he’d been back in the States. In fact, this was the first time since his diagnosis of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, that he had any lasting interest in a stranger. It was unnerving to want a chance at knowing her better. The longing… after so many years without, felt strange, but even more so, he had to admit, it was exciting.

In the monotony of his uneventful life post-military, a crush was a thrill, a welcome one at that. It added color to his usual routine of waking up, going to work, and then trying to sleep.

Once the bedroom was finished, Steve had been graced with catching glimpses of Peggy Carter on her brief appearances in the apartment. Mostly it seemed that she came home to change clothes. He’d seen her enter wearing power suits: sharp blazers and crisp collared blouses, to coming out in elegant cocktail dresses. He was thankful her loft she had with plenty of rooms with extra high walls to draw out the length of his job.

Steve hadn’t meant to come back to New York and work on a construction crew, but work was hard to come by and he had to contribute to the rent for the crappy apartment he split with his best friend. And to do that he needed to work. Luckily some of his old acquaintances from his childhood street in Brooklyn knew Miller Construction had so much work, paired with a revolving door of workers, that he always needed extra help.

Steve was officially only a painter, well versed in brush techniques and paint colors. He liked to think that his brief stint in art school had given him some edge in making clients and in turn Miller, satisfied. Miller had seemed to take a liking to him, and when Steve had asked for more hours to earn some extra money, made him the official Miscellaneous Man. And so when he wasn’t painting, Steve carried out all sorts of odd tasks or was an extra set of hands where they were needed. This meant he usually spent just as many hours on a site as the rest of the crew, sometimes longer if he was doing clean up. As long as he was earning, and the work kept him occupied, he couldn’t complain.

It had been a hard day of scraping, carrying up supplies and painting in the humid New York summer. The electricians had been in so the air conditioning was turned off for most of the day, only making working conditions even worse. By the time five o’clock rolled around, he was dripping with sweat, exhausted from the heat. And so when he runs into a sweaty Peggy in her athletic gear on his way out for the day, he found he’s just as sweat-soaked as she was. Only she still looked stunning. He must have missed her coming home sometime earlier. Suddenly, standing a few feet from her, he’s super conscious of his sweaty shirt and paint streaked jeans.

“Oh hello,” she said, chest heaving as she caught her breath.

“Hi,” he said dumbly.

“It’s incredibly hot out there,” she complained, wiping at her brow. “On your way out?”

“Yes. All done for the day,” Steve agreed.

Peggy nodded. “How about a bottle of water before you go? You’ll need it. I know I do after my run.”

Steve, despite himself, found himself accepting, setting down his bag and following her into the kitchen.

“Wait you ran outside in this weather?”

Peggy huffed, seemingly at herself as she ducked her head into the refrigerator. “I prefer running outside to on a treadmill, but I quickly realized I was being foolish and turned back around and headed toward the gym.”

He nodded, eagerly taking a long drink of the water she handed him.

“Probably a good idea. Best to avoid heat stroke,” he said. To his surprise she laughed at this. He took another long drink of water, his mouth suddenly dry. He cleared his throat. “How’s the new bedroom feel?” Steve had been curious about her reaction for a few days now.

Peggy hummed. “Very serene actually. I may not quite understand naming practice but you did a lovely job. Thank you.”

Steve felt oddly proud. “Of course. It’s my job,” he replied, feeling something strange in his stomach.

Peggy opened her mouth, maybe to continue the conversation, maybe to tell him to leave, only to be interrupted by her phone ringing.

“Work, sorry,” she explained before answering. “Yes, Rose? You’re kidding me! Well he’s not going to avoid me or his responsibilities so easily. Guess I’ll just have to go to him. Where’s exactly is the banquet? I can be at the helipad within the hour.”

Steve decided it was best to leave, moving away as she talked. When Peggy looked up he put his palm up in a show of goodbye from the threshold of the kitchen, and quietly thanked her for the water.  
Outside, under the lingering oppressive sun, Steve felt a strange sense of hopelessness creep up within him. He’s Steve Rogers. He’s just a painter, with nowhere to go, no one to see and nothing important to do.

Steve made it back to his apartment a few hours later, arms full of groceries, finding the apartment dark and empty.

“Buck?” he called out, checking the time on the microwave. He didn’t hear a response. It wasn’t even eight yet. “Bucky?” he tried again, setting down the bags. Again he was met with silence.

Steve sighed loudly. _Bucky must be getting an early start_ , he thought.

He could guess where Bucky had gone, not an exact location but there’s really only one thing that drew Bucky out of the apartment these days. Finding a bar full of pretty girls.

By the time the groceries were put away and Steve tidied up most of the apartment, there was no word from Bucky. It wasn’t as though Steve had really expected a call or a text. It had been months since Bucky had forced him to come along. He found absolutely no amusement in it. Not the booze, nor the girls Bucky picked up on his behalf. He didn’t like watching his best friend get stone drunk, nor did he care for the meaningless, tipsy interactions that Bucky had with women who didn’t have his best interests in mind. None of them lasted longer than a single night in Bucky’s schedule anyway.

And Steve knew better than to think Bucky really liked the routine. No, it was a distraction, a half-witted, ineffectual coping mechanism. Because it was easier to stay numb than to feel. Steve understood that. He did. But it didn’t mean he approved of Bucky’s form of therapy. And the time Bucky caused a scene on a drunken tirade directed at Steve was the last straw.

Bucky yelled at Steve for ruining the mood, fucking up his chances with girls, and “would you please grow the fuck up and just get fucking laid because you’re ruining this night for fucking everyone.” Steve, even though he felt it was his duty to watch out for his best friend, left the bar before throwing punches and never joined him again.

He fell asleep early, grandpa early as Bucky deemed it, the physical labor of working with a construction crew at least allowing him that. Steve had a hard time sleeping since his honorary discharge. Insomnia, they said, was very common. The advice he was given was to get up when he couldn’t sleep, and to go straight back to bed the moment he felt tired. Steve found that advice fairly useless. But he was also sure that it was something more than garden variety insomnia, because he was tired enough to fall asleep, but would still wake several times through the night. Sometimes following a nightmare, but just as often not.

At nearly three a.m., he had been wide awake for more than an hour. Steve had pulled his sketchpad and pencil from the bedside table in an attempt for distraction, but he couldn’t get his hands to work. After staring at the blank wall in front of him, he moved out of his depressing room, and into the living room to the couch, not bothering to try to distract himself with TV. He was lost within his head when he heard a key jiggle in the lock, hearing Bucky swear before he finally managed to open the door.

“Hey! Steve!” Bucky slurred in a joyful slosh.

Steve cringed. He hated the sound of that tone, falsely cheery, not knowing the stranger Bucky became when he was drunk.

“Long night?” he asked drily. “Don’t you have to be at work in the morning?

Bucky smirked. “Relax dad. It’s early. Still got plenty of time until I gotta hit the streets.”

Steve followed him into the kitchen, where Bucky pried the cap off the milk carton Steve had just bought, and took long gulps straight from the carton.

“Can’t sleep?” Bucky asked, as if he didn’t already know Steve’s chaotic sleep cycle. Steve crossed his arms as he watched Bucky wipe his mouth with his sleeve. “What?” Bucky said defensively at Steve’s disapproval.

“Do you even know what time it is?”

“Party time!”

Steve shook his head. “Buck, aren’t you sick of this? You don’t actually think this is helping.”

“What am I supposed to do? Just sit the fuck around here all night?”

There’s an edge in Bucky’s voice that Steve didn’t like so much.

“Have you gone to your appointment this week?” he guessed.

Bucky dropped the milk into the refrigerator and then shut it with a loud bang. “Fuck off Steve.”

“Buck, it’s important.”

“Is it Steve-o? Is it so goddamn important? And how’s the quack been for you? You feeling any better over the kind of shit we had to do under the pretense of it being our duty? Has a one-hour heart-to-heart rid you of your nightmares and guilt? Is that why you can’t sleep?”

Steve’s eyes narrowed in fury. “Oh yeah and I suppose getting plastered every single night of the week is the way to becoming reborn, huh Buck? Puking your guts out night after night, a revolving door of blank-faced girls. That’s the way to pretend you’re the old Bucky Barnes, the one who wasn’t a soldier and who didn’t lose an arm in combat.”

Bucky scoffed. “At least I’m enjoying myself.”

“And you only have to be half out of your mind to do so.”

“I’m already half-out on my mind!” Bucky yelled. “Every single moment of my life Steve.”

“You need to stick to your appointments, Buck,” Steve said in a gentler voice.

“God, you’re such a Grade-A, All-American, Apple-Pie-Sunshine pain in the ass sometimes. You know why they stuck us with that barely VA-approved garbage program? Not to help us. They don’t give a damn about us. They want us to hurry up and join the rest of society so that people don’t have to feel sorry for us when they see us on the streets. So that we’re not hanging under their noses reminding them of the unpleasant truth that there are thousands more like us, doing the shit they’d rather not be reminded of on a daily basis.”

“Buck—”

“You honestly think that they give a shit? Thank you for your service, now you’re on your fuckin’ own because we don’t give a fuck. Sit down, shut your goddamn mouth and get back to being another useful citizen. That’s what we are to our country Steve. And you know it too.”

“You’re drunk. You’re not thinking clearly.”

“No? Anyone help you get work when we got back? A recruiting job maybe? Training little runts like you used to be? An office job in D.C.? Didn’t think so. You were a Captain. You got medals,” Bucky said. “And what about Ed down by the docks? Or Lewis who squats in the park? They gave their service didn’t they? And now they got nothin’.”

Steve’s jaw clenched and before he knew it, he couldn’t hold his rage in anymore. “And what are you doing to help them? What are you doing to help yourself by acting so goddamn sorry for yourself? I keep waiting for the night you don’t make it home. You know that? And we’re not in an active combat zone!” Steve raged. “I go to work, do all the chores because I know you need me, and you’re my best friend. But you’re doing nothing to help yourself. Nothing. And you’ve still got options, you still got resources. And you’d rather piss them away.”

Steve stormed out of the kitchen, angry and too stubborn to go apologize or help Bucky to his room. He fumed in bed, gritting his teeth as he counted cracks in the ceiling paint, head so full of noise that he’s not sure when Bucky made it to his room, if he did at all.

His alarm goes off at six-thirty. He headed into the kitchen to make coffee, surprised to find Bucky dressed and already making a pot. He lifted it in question to Steve, who nodded back.

“Thanks,” Steve said.

Bucky nodded. “Listen, Steve,” he started, his eyes clearer than Steve had seen in a while, “about last night… I’m sorry. I was drunk out of my mind. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” He sighed, and looked away. “You know I didn’t mean anything by it right? You’re my best friend.”

Steve nodded. He knew. And he did understand just exactly the situation Bucky was in, better than most. Not everything Bucky said was false, but he didn’t want to fill his life, or the world, with any more cynicism. He could choose how to lead his life forward. He could choose to believe in the best of people. He could choose to believe he would get better.

On his way to work, he stopped for fresh bagels and a hot cup of coffee. He went to the park for a quick chat with Lewis. He hadn’t been this way in a while, but quickly learned that the always cheery Lewis said he’d been having an easier time now that it was summer. Beat finding sleeping spots in the winter. Steve gave him the coffee and bagels and promised to ask around for any small jobs for him. He headed to work with a heavy head, inhaling and exhaling in calculated breaths. He might not have been at his strongest, but even small gestures, small human connections helped. And the longer he walked the more Steve was reminded of his worth. Of the good that was worth doing.

  
It bugged him all the way until the elevator of Peggy Carter’s building, wondering why that thought had seemed so familiar, so potent.

 _I know my value_ , _she had said._

That held promise. That held hope.


	3. Chapter 3

**“Blessed are they who see beautiful things in humble places where other people see nothing.”**  
**― Camille Pissarro**

 

A week had passed since the beginning of the remodel, and as far as Peggy could tell, there was little improvement visible to the naked eye. In fact, the loft seemed perpetually covered in dust, tarps and tools. But much to her surprise, the construction had been minimally disruptive, likely also because she had spent the majority of the week busy with work. Peggy did have to admit that her bedroom, newly painted, seemed to have transformed the room. Although she would never have chosen such colors, the accents of blue were lovely, a glamorous “newness” making her space feel more like home.

She found herself coming home one day about noon, having had a long night and despite all the banging, clattering and drilling she expected, she had rather be at home than spend any longer at SHIELD headquarters, given that she’d been there for going on thirty-four hours straight. She had a mind to make herself a sandwich and collapse on her bed

It was surprisingly quiet when she stepped off the elevator, and she quickly realized that it was lunch time. Peggy was glad for this perfect unplanned timing, giving her an hour or so of quiet before workers wandered back. But as she walked into her apartment, she saw a lone figure at the far end of the living room. It was the blond painter, the one she had a bit of a fascination with, the one who always made of greeting her politely if they crossed paths. She hadn’t seen him since she had come back from her run the previous week before being whisked sent back to work in regards to the ever-growingly troublesome Senator Brandt.

The prospect of seeing him again, interacting with him, in that tight t-shirt and paint-splattered-yet-very-flattering blue jeans, was particularly exciting. She hadn’t had the opportunity to tell him quite how much she was impressed at the paint job. In fact, she had an inkling to explain that she was impressed with his work. The truth was, on her short visits home in the last week, she had found herself studying him while he worked, particularly when he wasn’t aware of her presence. Unlike most of the rest of the chatty crew, the painter was quiet, always deeply concentrated upon his work. And she found that watching his arms while he painted long, careful strokes gave her a perfect view of his forearms. In fact, right now, she watched him paint from a distance, eyes lingering on those rippling muscular arms as they worked.

Peggy bit back her grin, and decided to make her way toward him. Then, realizing that he was probably deeply focused as usual, she should likely announce her presence before startling or distracting him.

“Hello,” she called across the room. He did not turn around. “Not off to lunch?” she called in another attempt, but still there was no reaction.

Peggy considered that maybe he was listening to music. And she had realized that she didn’t know his name, making getting his attention even more difficult. Rogers, she thinks she remembers him being called. She continued walking toward him. There were no headphones that she could see when she was finally close enough to gently touch his shoulder.

The man jumped, startling so hard it knocked the paint roller out of his hand, and it clattered with a wet sound at the edge of the tarp at his feet.

“I’m so sorry,” Peggy said, but it was evident that her apology did not register.

The blond man’s eyes went wide, and he dropped into a hunched position, breathing so erratically he was practically wheezing. Peggy had spent enough time in the military and with SHIELD operatives to recognize this as more than just a typical startle response. In fact, this was verging on a panic attack.

Peggy immediately sank to the floor, level with him, and with gentle firmness she began to speak reassuringly to him as he clutched at his chest and gasped for breath.

“You’re safe,” she started. “You’re at work, painting my apartment, in Manhattan,” she listed off, knowing that specifying the details sometimes helps in these sort of disorienting psychological states. Peggy quickly moved on to coaching him into deep steady breaths. “It’s okay,” she assured, “I’m going to help you steady your breath. We’ll do it together. Just follow my voice. Okay?” Peggy studied his face, watching something register through his wild panic. “Deep breath now, for five seconds.”

She counted off every second, and then continued on through the rest of the cycle in the same fashion, all the while carefully watching him, keeping her voice soft and what she hoped was soothing. After a few minutes of patiently leading him through his breaths, his tense face began to relax. Peggy waited him out. His eyes slowly became alert again, but he still clutched at his chest when he made eye contact with her.

“Are you alright?” she asked very gently once he had risen to his feet.

He nodded stiffly, still looking dazed.

“I startled you,” she explained. “You had a bit of a panic attack,” Peggy informed him kindly. “Do you get them often?”

He flinched hearing her say it.

“I… uh, have PTSD,” he said shortly in a hoarse voice.

Realization and understanding flooded her face. It had explained his reaction to a tee, and she was surprised for not considering it earlier. Unfortunately, the blond had seemed to read her expression incorrectly.

“Look, if you could just not mention this to my boss,” he said in a frantic flurry, his voice rising with each word. “It won’t happen again. Please! I need this job.”

Peggy felt a pang in her stomach at distressing him for the second time in a matter of minutes. “Yes, yes, of course,” she promised hurriedly, hating the troubled look in his blue eyes. “Everything’s okay,” she reassured as he ran a palm across his face. “What’s your name?”

“Steve,” he said. “Steve Rogers.”

She smiled softly. “It’s nice to formally meet you Steve. I’m Peggy,” she replied. “Now, how about a cup of tea? It’s a favorite comfort of mine from back home.”

She gestured towards the kitchen and at her insistence he followed her.

“Please, sit,” she said pointing him toward the table while she turned on her kettle and reached into her cabinets. “Do you have a tea preference?” she asked turning her head toward him.

Steve shook his head looking miserable. Peggy turned back, digging through her cabinets until she found her teapot and found two acceptable mugs. One was a plain ceramic mug, the other had been a housewarming gift from a smug Howard, decorated in Union Jacks.

_Keep calm and carry on_ , it read.

She placed that one in front of Steve.

Peggy sat down across from him as she waited for the water to boil. “Nana would disapprove of this fine china I’m presenting to company,” she said wryly, hoping to lighten the mood. Steve smiled hesitantly. “We’ll save the proper tea set until next time.”

Peggy stood when the kettle whistled, filling the teapot before reaching into the refrigerator. She filled a small ceramic pitcher with milk, and brought it and the sugar bowl to the table. Then she placed the teapot on the table and took her seat across from Steve, who seemed to be studying the scene she laid out on the table.

“Needs a few minutes to brew properly,” she explained, receiving a nod in reply.

Steve rapped his fingers nervously against his empty mug, curling his fingers around the handle. “So…” he started, “how’d you know about the breathing technique?”

Peggy tilted her head as she looked at him, his eyes downcast. She got the notion he was ashamed of his reaction. “I’ve dealt with my share of high-stress and traumatic circumstances,” she said vaguely. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of,” she added. Steve’s mouth remained a thin line. “Is it anything in particular that set it off?” she asked.

Steve shrugged, tracing an invisible swirl against the table. “Sometimes I’m hypervigilant, and then sometimes when it gets too quiet my brain goes noisy to compensate and I don’t register anything until it’s too late.”

Peggy pursed her lips as she nodded. “I don’t mean to pry, but do you have anyone you can go to for support?” she asked in the gentlest of tones. “Perhaps a therapist?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I go to my military-referred therapist since I got back from Afghanistan. I’m down to once every two weeks.”

“Military man,” Peggy said, as the confirmation makes all her observations come together, from his posture to his build and even his always neatly parted hair, all evidence of ingrained military habits. “I thought so.”

“Yes, ma’am. U.S. Army. One hundred and seventh infantry,” he explained in what she readily recognized the clipped military tone.

“Royal Air Force. No. 2 Group,” she replied.

“Wow!” he said his voiced laced with awe, his eyes a little brighter. Steve looked genuinely surprised by this information, and he lacked the disbelief she usually received when she shared this fact of her background. “Guess you’re not a lawyer then?”

Peggy smiled. “Not quite. Is that what I come off as?”

Steve shrugged. “It was my best guess.”

“Surprised?”

“A little. But because you’re a woman. I mean. Not! Not because you’re a woman!” he fumbled. “I think that’s great!” he blurted out to his horror, squeezing his eyes shut and missing the amusement on Peggy’s lips. “Just because I wasn’t aware of a lot of women being in the RAF from what I’ve heard.”

“There’s not,” she replied bitterly.

“There should be,” he said firmly.

Peggy grinned. “I heartily agree.”

Steve seemed to relax at her smile. “I could see you as a high power attorney though. Chasing down injustice.”

She chuckled, and tried to smother the pleased grin on her face. If only knew how often her actual job required her to do just that, quite literally. “I do work in law enforcement per say, however I work on a larger government task force.”

Steve nodded, and Peggy was glad that he didn’t ask for details, perhaps understanding enough, given her military background, that it would probably not be fruitful to try to ask for specifics.

Peggy took the opportunity to pour the tea, serving him first. He watched as she poured a bit of milk into her own steaming mug and stirred.

“We Brits like milk in our tea,” she explained, realizing that perhaps her whole idea of tea seemed foreign. “I think Americans prefer lemon? I’m sure I have one somewhere. I myself enjoy lemon in green tea.”

Steve smiled at her. “Actually, I’m no stranger to milk in tea, I just haven’t had any in such a long time. My mom’s family was Irish. She started every morning with tea.”

Peggy watched as he poured in his milk and added a spoonful of sugar. “Cheers,” she added, when he lifted the mug to his lips, and continued to watch him as he blew the steam rising from his mug. She was pleased to see his hands were no longer unsteady.

“How long have you been back to civilian life?

“Almost five months,” Steve said. “Although the first three weeks were spent in a trauma unit.”

Peggy winced. She wouldn’t have guessed it by looking at him, no visible scars or evidence of serious injury.

“Head injury?” she guessed, wondering if perhaps he spent some of those weeks unconscious.

“Among a long list of other things,” Steve said, his gaze focused down at the table again. “They said my recovery was miraculous. Most of my unit didn’t fare half as well. And compared to them I got off scot free, minus some tiny scars.”

“Emotional scars run just as deep,” she told him with empathetic eyes.

He nodded slowly and seriously with a frown.

“It’s been tough,” Steve admitted over sips of tea, “adjusting back into the day to day grind. Especially in New York where everything moves a mile a minute. I grew up in this city and now I can’t seem to keep up with it.”

“But you’re working full time? That’s something.”

Steve nodded. “It was hard to find work. But I couldn’t sit around my apartment waiting week to week for my next therapy or PT appointment. I knew how to paint and heard about this from a friend of a friend and well…” He shrugged instead of finishing his thought. “It’s okay for now.”

Peggy understood his need to keep busy, having also felt the same urge after her own stint in the military. She understood the need to bury oneself in work.

“So, Steve, it’s lunchtime, and everyone else seems to have gone off for their hour break. Why’d you stay behind?” Peggy asked.

“Oh. Well, I was almost done with the primer on that wall and I just wanted to make sure it was properly finished before going on break.”

Peggy hummed. “You’re a hard worker.” Steve shrugged modestly. “I very much respect that.”

She smiled at the way his lashes fluttered as he looked down at the table. Apparently he was not prone to receiving compliments. It was utterly adorable. She had a deep desire to reach across the table and squeeze his hand, to curl her fingers around his.

“So what are you doing home at lunchtime?” Steve asked.

Peggy huffed out an exaggerated breath. “Been in the office for nearly two full days. I’m utterly knackered and I’ve missed my bed.”

“Oh!” Steve said with a start, jumping up from his chair. “Well, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you. I’ll—”

“Steve,” Peggy cut him off, sweeping her hand to direct him back to his chair. “It’s okay.” She gave him a smile and to her delight he returned it. She poured him another cup of tea, and took the rest for herself. “How about a biscuit?” she asked, getting up to look for her favorite tin.

“Is that a cookie in British? I forget.”

Peggy actually laughed.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to be travelling so while I may try to squeeze one more chapter in before I leave, I will likely not update until some time next week. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one!

 

**“Have you ever looked at a painting and known you had something in common with it? Have you ever seen something so beautiful you feel like crying? When I see you, I feel that way. I feel like the deepest part of me understands something vital about you.”**  
**― Christina Westover, _Precipice_**

 

 

Steve’s already sour mood became more incensed as the afternoon wore on. Of course, because the general contractor was out on a different job site, the crew spent more time discussing the after work drinking schedule than actually working on Peggy’s apartment. Then one of the lazier construction workers, one Steve couldn’t say he was a fan of, had ruined the wall he had painstakingly worked on over the course of the day. It had been the last wall of the dining room that needed to be completed, and now it had to be redone because the bozo hadn’t been paying attention. And when Steve rounded on him, he gave a flippant sorry and a half-hearted offer of helping him fix it, mostly because Steve towered over him. But then it was a quarter to five, and he dropped the taping knife in his hand and walked out, any lingering fear over Steve’s anger gone.

Steve gritted his teeth, frustration peaking as he looked around the abandoned loft and finally at his ruined wall. Annoyed but determined to finish the work he had meant to complete that day, he called Miller. If he could get permission to stay on site a few more hours, the wall would be one more thing he could add to the “completed” list in his head. He’d rather just get the job done, but he also didn’t want to intrude on Peggy’s already limited privacy, which was another reason why he had been so pissed off the guys were so keen to spend their days hanging out rather than working.

Miller seemed sympathetic and told him that if he was determined to finish up he’d call up Howard Stark for permission. By the time Miller called back Steve had cleaned up his taping knives and set up his paint tools. Peggy wasn’t to be home until late, giving him plenty of time to work. While the last of his wall patching dried, Steve went down the block for a sandwich. He ate his dinner in quick bites as he walked back so that once back at Peggy’s place he went straight for his ladder.

He was never a fan of sanding walls, dust getting all over the place, even his face despite wearing a mask and safety glasses, but today he welcomed the repetitive circular motions, soothing some of his raised nerves. Truthfully, Steve had been in a haze for the past few days ever since his panic attack. They had always left him drained. He thought he had been getting a handle on them, hadn’t had such an extreme startle response in weeks. Evidently that wasn’t true.

And then, just when he thought maybe the thing with Bucky was blowing over, Steve had seen him even less than usual. He had known Bucky hadn’t meant to pick a fight, not really, but still, Steve worried that there would be no returning to their brotherly bond. Maybe the blow-up had been the last straw, causing irreparable changes to their friendship. He wanted, more than anything, to talk to Bucky, to really talk, to make sense of their fight, only Steve didn’t know what to say. And Bucky was unlikely to bring it up on his own. And the more that Steve agonized about it, the more he was sure the fight was partly responsible for the state of him just prior to the panic attack.

And yet, Steve found a little bubble of positivity under the physical and psychological mess, in the form of Peggy Carter. Her kindness and understanding had stayed with him. Not only had she talked him through hyperventilating, she had invited him to tea, sans the uncomfortable pity he was used to receiving. She had cared about the well-being of a near stranger. She had offered him a hand as he was drowning, without wanting anything in return. It seemed unbelievable. Over cookies he had learned that she followed her older brother’s footsteps into the military and that her one year anniversary of being a full-fledged New Yorker had occurred just a few months earlier. That night he dreamed of warm brown eyes, and woke from sleep with a shiver running through him.

Just after six Steve started applying the primer. Although painting walls had never been quite the way he preferred to pursue his artistic passions, he found the repetitive motions, the occasional use of color, and the finished product all suited him just fine. It had quickly became second nature, knowing just which brush to use, and knowing even before putting paint on the walls, which color scheme and texture would work best in a space. There was art to be found in beautifying a home.

He was musing upon this when the front door opened and he saw Peggy walking in when he still had plenty of work left to go.

“Sorry,” he called out inanely before she had even said anything.

He watched her set her mail down and listened to the rhythmic clicking of her heels on the wooden floor as she made her way over.

“Why is it that you’re always the last one here Steve?” she asked with an amused smile and a hand on her hip.

“You wouldn’t believe how much this clown ruined my wall. Holes had to be patched. I had been so close to finishing this room out too,” Steve said, full of renewed irritation.

“And he’s not here helping you because?”

Steve crossed his arms. “Because it was almost five o’clock and he had something better calling his name rather than doing his job.”

“Ah. Girlfriend? Wife?”

“A cold one down at Mickey’s with the rest of the slackers,” he replied bitterly, hearing Peggy snort. “I’m sorry. I was told you’d be home later.”

Peggy shrugged. “Finished up early.”

“I’ll get out of your way real quick. Won’t bother you at all,” he promised.

Peggy tilted her head and smiled at him. “Did you need some help?”

Steve screwed his eyes up in confusion. Had he let on that he couldn’t do his job? Maybe he had complained a little too much. “Oh. No, no. It’s my job.”

“I don’t mind. Two sets of hands are better than one and all that, yes? Let me just get changed.”

“Peggy no. Really, I didn’t…” Steve stuttered in protest, scrambling off the ladder. “I didn’t mean for y—”

His words went unheard as Peggy had headed down the hallway and closed the door of her bedroom behind her. Steve bit his lip and quickly scrambled back up so that he could prove that he was capable of doing his work. But he found himself distracted again when she came out a few minutes later. She padded toward him barefoot, wearing a plain t-shirt and leggings, her brown hair tied back away from her face. Her toenails were painted red. He’d seen Peggy wear stunning clothes before, sleek and sharp designs, dresses that perfectly accentuated her figure, making more than one caveman of a construction worker whistle at her. But this softer, domestic Peggy, he found worked just as well. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.

She sighed in relief as she stretched her arms above her and stood onto her tip-toes, stretching her legs. Steve swallowed hard.

“Feels good to get out of those clothes,” she said. “So I’ve never exactly painted a wall before, but I’m sure you’ll be a proficient instructor.”

It took Steve a huge amount of effort to stop staring. He cleared his throat.

“You really don’t need to help Peggy. It’s what I’m paid to do. Besides I’m sure you’ve had a long day.”

She hummed. “Indeed I did. But I could use a nice distraction from all the mental exhaustion. Besides, company always makes work go faster.” She smiled at him and Steve found it was so easy and natural to smile back. “Now, do I get a brush or one of those rollers?”

Company did make the work go faster. He found Peggy to be a great helper. She watched his demonstrations carefully, and repeated his instructions back as he gave them. In twenty minutes they were working side by side, and Steve was grinning as he listened to Peggy share childhood stories about her lack of finesse with finger paints.

“Whew,” Peggy let out. “Well I guess this is my arm workout for the week.”

For a moment, he was sure she had shifted her gaze pointedly to his arms, but the next moment she was back to focusing on the wall. Once the wall was primed Steve stepped down the ladder and walked over to retrieve the paint cans.

“I think we deserve a quick water break,” she said walking into the kitchen. “Unless you want anything stronger,” she called back to him.

“Just water, thank you.”

They stood a few feet apart drinking.

“How’ve you been Steve?” she asked suddenly, her voice filled with the same softness he recognized from the day of his panic attack.

He cast his gaze toward the floor. “Okay. No repeats.”

She nodded at him. “I’m still very sorry about causing you distress.”

Steve shook his head. “It’s not your fault Peggy, you couldn’t have known. I just haven’t had one in a while.” He sighed, and something in her expression, her kind eyes that made him want to tell her more. “My best friend, Bucky, we were discharged together. And he’s having a harder time than me. We’ve been butting heads, but then we got into a huge fight a few days ago. And ever since… I’ve been on edge. I think it’s why my head’s been such a mess lately. Why I reacted so badly.”

“Steve…” she said sympathetically.

“I want to help him, but you can’t help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.” Steve was surprised at the honesty of the words that came out of him. He felt like he had just nailed down what was bothering him most, and as depressing as the thought of Bucky not wanting his help was, he felt some distant sense of lightness at being able admitting it out loud.

“Steve,” he heard Peggy say again, taking hold of his attention onto her. “He’s your best friend, yes? You served together?”

Steve nodded. “I’ve known him since we were little kids running around Brooklyn.”

“Then the best thing you can do is make sure you take care of yourself first,” Peggy told him. “You’re a wonderful friend for caring so deeply. And I’m sure beneath it all, he cares just as much about you. Be there for him, but Steve, you can’t help someone without finding some solid ground of your own.”

“I just wish I could find the right thing to say to get through to him.”

“It would make life much easier if we knew the magic words that always seem to escape us,” she replied, nodding sympathetically. “Maybe he doesn’t want help. Maybe he’s not receptive right now. But you can remind him that he’s not alone. You can continue to remind him that the moment he wants to talk, you’ll be there.”

Steve kept his gaze upon her. Why was it so easy to talk to this woman? How had life unfolded in such a way that his path had intersected with hers?

“Thank you Peggy. I’m not sure I was in the right state of mind to say so last time but I really appreciate your kindness.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” she said with a wave of her hand as she smiled at him. “However, if you ever wish to talk, well you do know where I live.”

Steve found himself chuckling. “That’s uh, good to know,” he said wringing his hands and then nervously rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s funny, I’ve never been um… good at talking to women.”

“Oh?”

“It always seemed so scary. Never did know what to say.”

“Well, I’m not aware of your history, but I can understand if other strange women have been sneaking up on you,” she said drily.

His lips split into an amused smile. “You’re not so strange. And I was in your apartment, not the other way around.”

“True,” she replied with a laugh.

Steve felt lighter than he had all day, a surprising feeling to have after sharing so many private thoughts. He turned his attention back to the wall, and Peggy was right behind him, reaching for her roller and asking about where she should begin. They naturally eased back into their immediate rapport.

“You know, I still think it’s absolute nonsense for Howard Stark to remodel a well-maintained loft, but I can now say I have a better appreciation of the effect of freshly painted walls,” Peggy told him.

“Why is he remodeling your place? If you don’t mind my asking.”

He found himself amused by her drawn out sigh, clearly one of disapproval.

“Because Howard Stark is a drama queen who is just fine with having his butler break up with his girlfriends but can’t handle them breaking up with him,” she told him with a roll of her eyes. “He always needs a project. He just happened to pick one that most interferes with my life. I’ve known Howard for years, and one of these days he will drive me absolutely mad. But I have to admit he’s been a good friend to me.”

Steve couldn’t deny that he felt a bit of relief and hearing that Peggy and Howard Stark were just friends.

“Is that how you ended up in this loft?”

Peggy nodded, dipping her roller back into the paint. “Yes, I helped him out of some trouble last year, and then I had some trouble with the building I was staying in before. Let’s just say he owed me in more ways than one and so when he offered, it seemed like a fair exchange.”

Steve grinned. He sure was growing more and more curious about her life, about how she had helped out billionaire Howard Stark. Every new facet he discovered about Peggy drew him in further into the heady web of her personality. This included her ability to seemingly pick up new skills at lightning speed.

“You’re a fast learner,” Steve told her with admiration, as their rollers met in the middle of the wall.

“Thank you, I had an excellent teacher.” Steve shrugged modestly. “Really, you’re quite good at painting. I’ve noticed that you have very steady hands.”

Steve’s lip quirked at the compliment. “Actually, I went to art school,” he told her later, once he had switched over to his angular brush to fill in the edges.

Peggy’s eyes lit up like this was a pleasant and meaningful discovery. “Really?”

Steve nodded. “Just for a year. The one I could afford just before I joined up.”

“So you are a painter.”

Steve ducked his head a little at her matter-of-fact description of him. “Used to paint, yeah,” he admitted. “More of a drawer than anything if I had to say.”

“Used to?” Pegged asked. “You don’t paint at all anymore? Not even just for yourself?”

“A little. More since I’ve been back in New York than in the last five years.”

“I’d love to see,” she said with a bright and interested smile.

Steve found himself pulling out his phone and showing her a few pictures of his most recent paintings and even a few charcoal sketches.

“Steve!” she exclaimed. “These are spectacular. Tell me about them.”

He found himself ducking his head again, ears growing hot. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had any interest in him or his hobbies or his silly attempts at painting. Peggy spent a few long minutes studying his work before returning his phone and they turned back to painting.

Steve found himself easily sharing stories from art school, of freshman projects and how he’d always liked the way pencils scratched marks onto paper. He even told her about the time Bucky snuck into his life drawing class only to be forced to sit through an hour long session with a nude model that was neither young nor female as he had assumed. Bucky had sulked through the entire class uncomfortably, sketching haphazard harsh lines and still ended up impressing the pretty girl behind him. She found his rough, uncoordinated strokes “genius” and a “refreshing interpretation of the way life sculpts the body as it ages.” Of course only Bucky could get a date out of a class he didn’t attend, in a school he wasn’t enrolled in, while Steve could hardly get a girl to look at him.

For some reason, sharing even that story of his pathetic inability to hold a girl’s attention was enjoyable. He wasn’t embarrassed at the reminiscence, and the memory no longer held the sting of being constantly overlooked. Extraordinarily enough, Steve thought it had something to do with the peculiar look Peggy had given him as he talked, at the way her tongue peeked between her lips, obviously just to sooth what was likely a parched lip, but it was a nice effect anyway.

“I think you should keep at it,” she commented with a casual breeze.

The wall was finished and the sun had long since set. Steve climbed off his ladder and watched as Peggy regarded their work. She had a spot of white paint on her cheek and one just below her elbow.

“You’ve got paint on you,” Steve said, gesturing to her cheek, finding her attempt to swipe the dried paint off with just the flat of her thumb endearing. He bent forward to gently rub it off with a clean rag from his pocket. Only her cheek jerked away as she started laughing at him. He was momentarily humiliated, ashamed that he dared to make such a move.

“You’ve got paint in your hair,” Peggy said between laughs, like this was the funniest thing she had ever seen. He looked at her quizzically, as he reconciled her laughter as joyful rather than spiteful. “Frosted tips. Just like an early 2000s boy bander.” Her laughter was full of silly giggles so contagious that Steve felt warmth spread as the laughter rumbled through his chest.

As he walked from the subway station to his apartment, Steve realized that he was still grinning, that he must have held that expression the entirety of his commute. He couldn’t remember the last time he had smiled so much.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies, apologies and more apologies for the long wait. Traveling made me fall behind on some other things and then this took much longer to edit than I hoped it would. But I'm more on track now, and already working ahead on the rest.

 

**“[Painting] can be lonely work, but it connects you to other people in ways that many of the things we could do with our lives do not.”**  
**― Christine Sneed, _Paris, He Said_**

 

 

It was late when Peggy entered her loft. Not New York City the city that never sleeps late. Not Friday night late. Not even late-for-Agent-Carter-who-works-covert-missions late. But late nonetheless. It wasn’t quite late enough for Peggy to go straight to bed, but it was the kind of late that caused a pang of something like loneliness when she entered her dark and quiet home. It was a dull, inexplicable ache that came with living alone, especially on a Friday night.

The last six months had been lonesome. Ever since her would-be roommate Angie had been scouted for a recurring guest star role for some television show, Peggy hadn’t realized how grateful she was to have a very social friend with a mood-lifting bubbly personality. Angie had moved to Los Angeles mere days into moving into the loft with Peggy. But Peggy had been happy for her, and told her in no uncertain terms that it was about time that someone recognized her talent. And how could she not be ecstatic that the well-deserving waitress finally was seeing her dreams coming true. True, it wasn’t a leading role on Broadway, but it was a start. In a few months’ time she’d be able to watch Angie Martinelli on her rarely used TV.

It was one of the few times she missed London since she made the big move the New York. Mr. Jarvis had been one of the many reasons New York had felt like a quick second home, but ever since she moved into the loft, which was much closer to SHIELD headquarters than the room she used to rent, she saw him much less too. Peggy thought about dropping in to see him, but decided against it. It was a Friday night, Howard was going to be club hopping, and Jarvis was very likely to have plans with his lovely wife. She’d rather not disturb them.

Still, Peggy wondered at her sudden glum mood. Usually she was too busy with work to feel any of the effects that invariable afflicted workaholics. Typically she was too focused, and way too tired, to feel the emptiness of her enormous penthouse loft. Working for an intelligence organization meant there was always work to do, but at the moment, Peggy was between assignments since she’d nailed Senator Brandt down to his responsibilities, ensuring nothing less than National Security. While at full speed, it was hard to feel the full weight of all the things that floated on by. It’s when you slow down that it all catches up with a person, usually all at once at an inconvenient moment. And tonight, among the shadows of her silent apartment she felt the full force of the absences in her life.

She should have been out celebrating her team’s efforts with Senator Brandt, the team she spearheaded. Yet somehow she wasn’t quite up to reveling. She strode over to the elegant bar and the crystal decanter filled with her favorite brand of whiskey. Peggy poured herself a glass and strode over to her floor-to-ceiling windows. She didn’t take a single sip.

It occurred to her that part of her negative mood stemmed from something Agent Thompson had said on his way out of the office.

“You know Marge, some of us like having a life outside of the office. We have reasons to leave the after a long day instead of holing up in our offices with our files.”

The recall nagged at her, and she gritted her teeth just at the memory of his tone. It had been the first time in months that his juvenile commentaries got under her skin.

Worse than the words was the gleaming, slimy smirk that accompanied them. He’d been mocking her, actively shaming her for a lack of a personal life, granted that he’d only seen her enough for his claims to be made purely of speculation. Unfortunately, as it happens with asshole coworkers, he was right. She did have a bit of an empty social calendar. Not that it was any of his business. Nor should she have to explain or apologize for being dedicated to her job. If she were a man, they’d call her a committed professional. As she was not, she was a desperate overachiever. Peggy reminded herself that she was the one that had recently been promoted, over Thompson, and that now he reported to her.

Still… she wasn’t able to shake off the sudden burst of melancholy. Peggy took a long drink of her whiskey and stared out at the Manhattan night.

 _Damn that Jack Thompson_ , she thought.

 

 

Peggy met Howard over a very early breakfast meeting with their department director Colonel Phillips. Phillips had known her and Stark for years, and although he often played the terse grump, he had a soft spot for them both. He had personally sought them out to lead his new division. She couldn’t deny that the best form of flattery was the full trust and respect the two men had in her abilities. It was this fact that kept Peggy from punching Howard Stark on a daily basis. Not that he hadn’t deserved the couple that she had given him. She smiled to herself remembering the one time he snuck up on her and gotten her elbow at his cheek. He had stolen her foundation from her purse because he had a shareholders meeting for Stark Industries and needed to “put his best face forward.”

After Phillips had left for his next meeting, Howard and Peggy continued working on their coffees and pastries. Peggy stole another scone off the tray.

“So Peg,” Stark started, refilling his cup, “what’ya think of the remodel. Nice, huh?”

Peggy only barely managed to avoid rolling her eyes. “It’s completely unnecessary Howard,” she told him but even as she said it, she was no longer really annoyed with him over his choice of a pet project.

“Awww…” he whined, slurping up some hot coffee, “C’mon Peg. You gotta admit I put so much work into making it grand. You know I never do anything by halves.”

Well that was certainly true.

“You,” she emphasized, “haven’t made any of it.” She bit back the fact that she, Peggy Carter, had in fact done more work on the loft than he had. For some reason, she didn’t want to share the story of how she helped the painter with the dining room.

Stark waved it off. “Semantics. It wouldn’t have happened without all this,” he said, pointed emphatically at his temple.

Peggy snorted, but she supposed he wasn’t entirely incorrect. She bit her lip at the thought of Steve, and how much fun she had painting with him. She fought with the grin that was leaking into her expression.

“While it was utterly unnecessary and has given me many a headache, perhaps the loft does feel a bit lighter and more modern,” she said keeping her voice controlled and dispassionate.

Howard grinned. “I knew you’d think so! I’m a master of good taste.”

Peggy rolled her eyes again and shook her head. _Dear Lord, please help._

“It’s perfect! Now that the construction crew is almost finished, I’m thinking all the interior should be redone next.”

Peggy coughed as she almost choked on her pastry. She couldn’t believe it. She was sure that Howard had gotten over his stupid ego-deflating break-up by now. She was sure that SHIELD had been keeping his mind busy enough.

“Of my apartment? No! No, no, no, no and once again no!”

“Peg—”

“No Howard! You’ve already invaded my life and personal space for weeks! No more.”

“But you said it yourself Peggy. The loft looks more modern. Now imagine what an interior decorator could do to really finish the place off. It’ll look like something out of Architectural Digest. We could get a photographer to come! And serve hor d'oeuvres. Jarvis should definitely be in the picture. Perfect English butler. Holding lobster puffs. In a tux.”

“Howard Stark, don’t you dare!”

But Howard was already scribbling on a napkin, ignoring her protests. She cursed. While she’d give credit to Howard for perhaps making the loft feel more homey, and even to his project providing her with the residual benefit of introducing her to Steve Rogers. But there was only so much she could take! She needed to find a way to stop him, or at least stall him until he got over his alleged heartbreak and found a real project to occupy his enormous head.

 

 

Peggy doesn’t quite plan going home early in the afternoon, it just happens to work out that way.

Work on the loft really had been coming to an end. Many of her rooms were now noticeably finished, the hallways empty without the usual litter of tools, and Peggy found that she wished that the construction would continue. She’s grown used to it, to coming home on short breaks to whirring of tools and constant swearing. But most especially, she has become used to the presence of a certain blond haired painter.

Since meeting Steve Rogers, Peggy’s life hadn’t felt as empty. The attractive man had quickly become a kindred spirit and his even limited presence in her life buoyed her spirits. Peggy had a strong and strange desire to see him more. Peggy recalled painting with him, of laughing with him, and the feel of his thumb against her cheek. Had it really been so long since she felt so comfortable in the company of a man? She wanted him more firmly in her life.

She was looking about her place, observing less guys milling about already but then her survey stopped when she spotted Steve. He was carrying a brand-new door to the guest room all on his own, a guy holding a power drill following just behind. Their eyes met and she felt a girlish flutter when he smiled at her in greeting. She waved at him, continuing to watch him as he set the door in place and held it there as the other guy attached it to its hinges.

She shouldn’t distract him. And she did not come home early just to see him. That would be utterly ridiculous.

Peggy marched into the kitchen and made a big show of puttering about, taking out nearly all the food left in her fridge that could ostensibly feature on a sandwich. She may not have the patience or the time for cooking most days, but the state of her refrigerator made it clear she should use her afternoon off to go grocery shopping. It’s not like there was any reason to sit around her apartment…

Her attention flitted over to Steve who happened to be watching her too. Even from across the room she could make out his now colored cheeks once they locked eyes. She smiled openly at him and when he finally turned his attention to the toolbox someone was shoving into his stomach, she let the smile turn into a full blown ear-to-ear affair.

Once her sandwich was assembled, he had moved on to painting the door frame, to match the door. It was then she was struck with a great idea. An idea that could possibly keep Howard off her back and out of her apartment.

She stared at Steve’s forearms. At his exacting flicks of the wrist as he painted strokes up and down.

Yes it was a marvelous idea.

It even boded well when the door frame Steve was painting happened to be near her bedroom, apart from the other workers who were mostly congregated on the other side of the loft.

Peggy made her way over, stopping a few feet behind him. She crossed her arms and tilted her head.

“Hard at work I see,” she said.

Steve looked over his shoulder at her and grinned. “Hi Peggy.”

“Hi Steve.”

“How was your sandwich?” he asked, that polite but genuine interest in his voice that she adored.

“Everything’s especially delicious when you’re starved.”

He chuckled. She was growing very much attached to the sound. She leaned against the hallway wall and continued to watch him.

“Shame the work’s slowing down,” she started in a carefully conversational tone. “This blank wall looks so sad without something pretty to cheer it up. Maybe a nice pattern.”

“A pattern? Like a flower print?” Steve asked.

Peggy hummed pensively. “That’d be nice. It’d certainly give me something to look at that was more my touch than the rest of this Howard Stark extravaganza,” she replied. “What do you think?” she asked seriously.

They both turned toward the wall in question. Steve said nothing as he studied the stretch of bare canvas, left and right, up to the ceiling and down toward the wainscoting.

“Definitely floral,” he responded after a serious consideration.

“I don’t suppose there’s anything you could do with it by the end of the week,” she said feeling a little warm.

But to her surprise, Steve frowned. And Peggy didn’t enjoy the feeling it gave her in the pit of her stomach.

“Actually,” he said, his whole body sagging a little, “tomorrow’s my last day here.”

“Oh,” she managed. She thought she’d have a few more days.

Steve looked sheepish as he shifted his weight on the balls of his feet.

“I’m just coming in to do touch-ups. Miller has a new job he wants me to work on,” he explained, looking maybe a little regretful.

“Right, of course,” Peggy replied with as much cheerfulness as she could muster with definitely no sign of disappointment. “It’s good that you’ve got work. Of course I’m sure your skills are very much in demand,” she added.

“Yeah, I—”

“On to painting someone else’s bedroom with paint colors sharing titles with classic movie,” she said, attempting to secure the levity in her response so he wouldn’t think there was anything off with her.

“Actually, it’s a commercial building. A store I think.”

“Oh right. Yes of course,” she said, forcing herself not to roll her eyes at her own stupidity. “Well, I should go make good use of my afternoon off and get myself some groceries.” Before Steve could respond she cut him off with an overwrought playful tap to the shoulder and a “back to work with you then.”

Peggy hurried out of the hallway and out of her loft. In the elevator she clapped herself on the forehead. She absolutely hated herself for feeling disappointed, for thinking herself so self-important that Steve would be able to agree to such a request on a whim. Worse, she felt stupidly like she’s just been rejected.

 _You’re a bloody mess Margaret Carter_ , she muttered to herself.

 

 

She thought shopping while hungry led to the worst impulse shopping. As it turned out, shopping while frazzled and sporting a bruised ego, led to three boxes of Oreos (double-stuffed) and a bottle of forty dollar wine (Bordeaux). At least she’d have company for the night.

Peggy was dragging in her six overflowing reusable bags when out of nowhere, Steve was there, taking them from her arms and letting her lead the way into the kitchen.

“Thank you.”

He nodded at her. He hovered while she began to unload her groceries. When she stopped to look at him, she noticed he was biting his lip and his hands were in his pockets.

“I could do it in the evenings,” he said just as she had stuck her head into her freezer.

“Sorry?”

“I could paint you something floral after my new job. It’s not far from here and they always finish before five.”

Her heart beat a little off rhythm. “Oh no. Steve no, that’s too many hours for one day.”

“I don’t mind,” he said hurriedly but finished off with a shrug.

“Really, please, there’s no reason to feel obligated. I surely do not need an unnecessarily decorated wall.”

“I want to.” Steve smiled. “Besides, what’re you gonna do? Stare at a blank wall? I can’t let you do that.”

Peggy felt her heart do that strange off-rhythm patter. She could only agree. How could she say otherwise, especially when she couldn’t deny the thrill of seeing him repeatedly in the future?

“Did you have any specific ideas?”

Her face felt a little warm. “No, not really I guess.”

Steve didn’t seem to register her awkwardness, or pick up on the fact that she had decided on this on a whim.

“Okay. Why don’t you think about some possibilities. Even just color choices. Maybe we can find some paint named after other film noirs,” he said wryly.

Peggy laughed. “Well that’d certainly be on theme.”

“Will you be here tomorrow at all? We could discuss the details?”

“Yes,” she replied, smiling widely. “Let’s.”

Peggy promised to stop at home just to touch base with him. She didn’t find it difficult to insist her secretary reschedule her afternoon meetings with the explanation of a personal matter.

And the following day, rather than saying goodbye forever to Steve Rogers, he showed up with a sketchbook full of flowers just for her. He left with her phone number.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obviously I'm beyond excuses for not sticking to a regular posting schedule that I keep meaning to have, but every time I work on this, I add a couple hundred words or another chapter appears out of nowhere, and then my word documents freeze scaring the crap out of me and then life gets in the way. Anyway, hopefully this slightly longer chapter will make up for it, especially since it's way better than it had been a week ago. Also, to be honest, I'm pretty excited about the next chapter.

**“Do you know how hard it is to paint kindness?” She leaned her hip against a desk in the corner of the room, still watching me. “It’s the only part of a person I really want to capture. Everything else seems to get lost in layers of deception or defensiveness. But not kindness. You can’t hide it. And people either are or they aren’t.”**  
**― Laura Anderson Kurk, _Perfect Glass_**

 

 

Steve had a spring in his step that he hadn’t expected to have following no longer officially working on Peggy Carter’s loft. The truth was, when she had asked him to decorate her walls, he was ready to jump and immediately say yes. Any reason to keep a relationship with her. Not a relationship, he scolded himself. Just a maybe friendship. Acquaintanceship would be fine too. If she’d prefer that. He’d start anywhere. And he’d paint her anything she wanted.

Steve hadn’t even considered payment until she had assured him he’d be generously compensated for his work. He would have done it for free, even planned on insisting on it, until she fixed him with a no-nonsense-my-word-is-law stare that he wasn’t fool enough to contest. Instead he showed her the sample sketches he’d drawn up for her the previous night. They were nothing more than graphite on paper, but he figured it’d be best that she be convinced he had any sort of talent for drawing flowers.

Apparently his preparedness and initiative took her by surprise.

The fact was, he’d gone home after hearing her say floral, and spent a pleasant couple of hours drawing her flowers. The longer he thought of Peggy, the more he wanted to give her options, especially without knowing which flowers were her favorite.

Peggy had liked his rough sketches, but other than a few comments on preferred colors and flowers, she said she trusted his artistic sensibilities.

Steve’s only disappointment came from having to wait a day to see her. His Wednesday therapist appointment was the one thing permanent in his calendar. Peggy had been more than understanding, even asking how it’d been going, and insisting she could make Thursday work just as well instead.

Steve stopped by the hardware store for color samples in the colors Peggy had mentioned. So far, he knew she liked red flowers: tulips, poppies and roses of course. He spent a long time deliberating between coordinating the right range of reds and complementary colors. He liked the careful and concentrated choosing and mixing of colors. The rose, carmine and amaranth already beheld the magic meld of a fragrant bouquet.

It was nice to have a project, one that actually stimulated his creativity. It was nice to be able to provide someone with a touch of beauty.

And to be going home with a smile, a project and Peggy’s phone number was thrilling.

 

 

Steve’s head always felt a little fuzzy after therapy, and he needed some quiet time alone afterwards to reflect. Usually his commute home filled the requirements; headphones and staring out the window worked wonders. But that Wednesday he headed to the art store. He walked leisurely through the aisles, fingers trailing against the long rows of paint tubes. The previous night he had refined a few of his designs for Peggy, this time with color. He then started to transfer them onto canvas panels. It’d be easier for Peggy to get a realistic idea of how a pattern would look on her wall if she actually saw it rendered in paint. Steve grabbed another couple canvas panels and a few extra tubes of oils. The urge to paint had been growing and growing. On his way to the register, on a whim, he grabbed a medium-sized linen canvas.

Steve was barely out the door when he received a text. It was from Peggy. His heart jumped as it had the other two times she had texted him since they exchanged numbers the day before. The fact that they were succinct and business-like was irrelevant.

_Tomorrow, 5:30pm at my place works well for me._

The tiny confirmation of their planned meeting was enough to occupy his head the whole way home.

 

 

Steve was so overwhelmed with the past few days’ development, and his head full of potential plans for Peggy’s walls, he didn’t think twice about the light on in the living room. Both he and Bucky had a bad knack for leaving the house with the lamps turned on that he just assumed it was Bucky who had forgotten to turn it out as usual on his way out for the night.

But to his surprise, Bucky was on the spread out on the couch watching TV.

“You’re not going out?” Steve asked.

Bucky gestured to his prosthetic. “My arm’s killing me so I had to take a Vicodin. You’re not supposed to drink with medicine.”

“I knew that. Just didn’t know that you did,” Steve replied with his arms crossed.

To his further surprise, Bucky only chuckled.

“You wanna watch something with me?” Bucky asked. “I ordered food.”

Steve hesitated. He had a lot of work left to do, and he had been itching to get started. But when was the last time Bucky had wanted to spend time with him? When had been the last time they just hung out?

“I gotta work on something.”

Bucky nodded, but Steve noticed, just before he turned his face away that Bucky actually looked disappointed.

“But I can do it out here,” he amended.

“Cool. We can watch something stupid so you can half pay attention,” Bucky said, his mouth stretching into a lazy smile.

Steve snorted. “More like so I can be your excuse for watching those terrible reality shows.”

“See you act like a snob, you know with all your whining about the superiority of black and white cinema and real actors, but you know you get just as caught up in the storylines.”

Steve rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it.

They settled on some cooking show instead. Bucky kept up a ready stream of commentary as he slurped his takeout carton of noodles. Steve had his head bowed toward his lap, both his sketchbook and a canvas panel resting side by side. He was painstakingly copying a design, preparing for it to be painted.

“What are you concentrating so hard on?” Bucky asked during a commercial.

Steve lifted his head from his hunched position in the armchair. “Huh?”

“You’re drawing,” Bucky said, pointing with his chopsticks. “It’s not nudes is it?”

He grinned at Steve’s annoyed frown and the way his pencil had awkwardly slipped from his grip and rolled all the way over towards the opposite wall. By the time Steve had set himself back into the armchair, sketchbook firmly shut over the canvas panel, he was flushed down to his neck. It may have had something to do with the proximity of Bucky’s comment to the brown-haired beauty he had been thinking about in the same moment. Not that he was thinking lewd thoughts about Peggy. Because he wasn’t. He was just thinking of her and her smile at the flowers he had drawn her. That was it.

Steve had never been more thankful to know that Bucky could not read his mind.

“No,” Steve finally said. “Just something for work.”

“For work?”

“Yeah. Just some decoration for a wall.”

“Oh nice. Miller asked you to do that?” Bucky asked with interest.

“Actually the woman who lives there wanted it so…” he trailed off. “Yeah. She wants something like a floral pattern.”

Bucky nodded. “Well that’s cool. Gotta be more exciting than just painting solid blocks of boring colors, huh?” He slurped at his noodles again. “And you’re good at flowers. Roses and all that shit.”

Steve nodded.

“You been drawing a lot lately?” he asked, his voice a little quiet, like he’d just realized he didn’t know what his best friend had been up to recently.

Steve wasn’t sure how much he really wanted to tell him. Especially not about Peggy. Not when he’d likely make some crude jokes about the situation. Not when there was a huge probability of him cheering him on in finally finding a girl that could get him laid. He didn’t want to hear any of it. And the recent burst of creativity felt personal. Even worse, Steve honestly wasn’t sure he trusted Bucky enough yet to share. And that was a depressing realization. To not feel comfortable talking to the guy he use to share everything with.

Steve shrugged off the question. “Here and there.” He turned back to his sketchbook.

It was much quieter, the living room more tense as they moved into the next episode. Bucky’s commentary had dropped off to consist mostly of grunts of disapproval and the occasional highlights Steve missed.

“I could use a fucking drink,” Bucky growled during a commercial.

Steve looked up to see him rubbing at the junction of where his left shoulder met the prosthetic. In the brief moment that Bucky hadn’t noticed he had Steve’s attention, Steve could plainly see the full extent of his pain. Agony, that’s what Bucky was going through. And then in a flash, his face had fallen back toward blankness. It was the second time in an evening Bucky had hid his emotions from Steve. Apparently they were both keeping walls up. And it ate at Steve.

“But you took a Vicodin.”

“Fuck,” Bucky bristled through gritted teeth. “I fucking know.”

Steve bit back his sigh. Bucky needed his support not his lectures. Not tonight.

“When can you take another?”

“Not for a couple more hours.” He hissed as he rubbed at his shoulder. “Not likely to help anyway when it still feels like my left arm’s on fire when it doesn’t even exist anymore.”

Steve frowned. “Didn’t know the phantom pains were still so bad.”

Bucky shrugged then scrubbed a hand down his face.

“Maybe you could go back to your doctor. Try something different.”

“It’s fine,” Bucky said with an edge. “It’ll pass.”

Steve dropped his sketchbook and stood.

“How about some tea?” he asked on his way towards the kitchen. Bucky looked at him in bewilderment. “What?”

“Tea?”

Steve crossed his arms defensively. “Yeah, tea. What’s wrong with tea?”

Bucky snorted in amusement. “I can’t remember the last time I had tea. Actually, I think the last time I had tea was the last time your ma made me some.” When Steve looked over he was frowning. This time it wasn’t because of his arm. “Sorry.”

“S’Okay.” Steve shook his head and continued into the kitchen. He still felt his mother’s absence, but it no longer hurt to talk about her. In fact, Bucky mentioning her oddly felt like bonding.

He pulled out a green box from one of the cabinets, taking out two tea bags before reaching into the dishwasher for two clean mugs.

“What the hell is this?”

Steve looked up to see Bucky had followed him. He was manhandling his box of tea.

“Irish breakfast tea?” Bucky laughed. “Shamrock green box don’t make up for the fact that this isn’t tea from yer ma’s motherland.”

Steve found his frown slipping, even as he kept his arms crossed defensively. “It’s all they had at the store on the corner.”

“Since when do you buy tea anyway?”

 _Since Peggy Carter made me a cup of tea_ , he thought.

Bucky continued to chortle as Steve ignored him. “You’re not doing right by your heritage boyo.”

Steve plonked a teabag into a mug full of hot water and thrust it in Bucky’s face. “Here. Mug to shut your ugly mug up.”

Bucky snorted, but took the mug. “No but really. This ain’t the tea your ma used to get. What was that brand she drank?”

“Barry’s.”

Bucky laughed. “Good ol’ Barry’s.” He sipped noisily. “Top of the morning to ya,” he said with a smirk.

Steve rolled his eyes. “Idiot.”

Back on the couch, watching Bucky absentmindedly rub at his shoulder between long sips with eyes still glued to the screen, Steve was reminded of something he had wanted Bucky to know.

“Hey Buck?”

“Yeah?”

“You know you’re not on your own, right?”

Bucky looked from the TV and met Steve’s eyes. “Yeah, sure thing Steve.”

 

 

He was done early at the new job. By three he had been packed and cleaned up and itching to see Peggy. His day-to-day felt strange now that his morning commute’s destination was no longer the luxurious loft. Work was back to its rote and boring routine. There were no surprises, no potential for excitement and no opportunities of glimpses of Peggy.

At the new job, the paint remained white all the way, no eggshell, definitely not Casa Blanca. Strictly plain, industrial white. He spent his days painting with pure muscle memory, while he thought up more and more intricate possibilities of brightening up Peggy’s walls. He was eager to give her home some color, to make her an ideal space of her own. Admittedly, he was pretty pleased with the patterns he had made up for her. He only hoped she’d agree.

At five-thirty on the dot, Steve was at Peggy’s building. He approached her familiar door full of butterflies, trying to swallow them as his knuckles knocked at it.

She was there a moment later, looking beautiful in a deep red pencil skirt paired with a crisp white blouse. He spotted her suit jacket draped on one of the armchairs within his view.

“Hello Steve,” she said in a cheery voice, ushering him inside.

The butterflies in his stomach intensified.

“It’s nice to see you Peggy,” he ended up saying.

“And you Steve,” she replied. “Would you mind so terribly if I took a few minutes? I hate to be rude but I had just got in and I’d love to change.”

Steve nodded fervently. “Take all the time you need. I need to get myself organized.”

“Thank you,” she said. “At the risk of being a terribly improper host, please feel free to anything in the fridge. Water, juice. There might be a Coke or two. Help yourself.”

“I’m fine Peggy. Really. Take your time.”

She gave him one final smile before turning towards her bedroom.

Steve settled on her couch, pulling out his work from his backpack, and laying out all his designs for her to peruse. He laid out the sketches next to the mockups he painted, fiddling with the order until he was satisfied it was the best possible viewing arrangement.

“My apologies,” she called as she exited her room some minutes later. “The office called, and of course everything goes to hell the moment I leave,” she said in dramatic exasperation. “Anyway, best to get it out of the way. You have my complete attention.”

He fought the butterflies that threatened to fly up toward his throat.

“It’s okay,” he promised, unable to look away from Peggy who was now wearing a pair of jeans. He’d never seen her in jeans before. In skinny jeans. How was it that she made jeans look incredible?

“Steve!” she exclaimed, and Steve who had been so distracted by her outfit, was worried he’d just done something to offend her, like staring obviously and for way too long. He was working for her. He needed to remain polite and professional. “Did you do all these? Sketches and paintings?”

Unable to find the appropriate response, he shrugged. “I just wanted you to know what it would look like. So we could make sure you’ll love your walls.”

Peggy sat down in an armchair to his left and began picking up each piece with a careful touch and a keen eye.

“You’re already done so much work,” she told him. “These are wonderful.”

Steve shrugged again. “Well, I promised you some options, and once I started, I just had so many ideas I wanted to try out.”

“But to have gone to so much trouble…”

He wanted her to know how much he’d enjoyed coming up with designs for her. “It was fun,” he told her truthfully.

Every single time she smiled at him, he swore his heart sped up. And she was smiling at him again. All of his efforts were worth it to even receive one, single solitary pleased look from Peggy Carter.

“You said you liked red and that you liked both poppies and roses, and honestly both would look nice. And I saw some great wallpaper designs for both that I’m positive would look good painted straight onto a wall. I went for a more classic vintage look paired with some modern designs. Thought that would be more your taste,” he babbled on with nervous energy, jiggling his right leg as Peggy continued to peruse his art. “And there are those salmon colored poppies which I thought could give some nice contrast. Or yellow ones if you wanted.”

She smiled again. “Oh Steve, you’ve made my decision infinitely more difficult. These are all beautiful. It’s more than I could have ever expected.”

He grinned back. “I figured it you were going to decorate your walls, it deserves something special.”

His heart thumped against his ribcage with the look she gave him. He knew for certain that no one had looked at him quite like that before.

“I really do like these poppies,” Peggy said. “Elegant and unique. I know they have a bit of a morbid symbolism to them, yet I just find them so striking.”

“They are unique. And they symbolize remembrance. Which is important. It’s a nice metaphor of what should exist in a home. The memories of our lives, right? The good and the bad. Everything that makes us who we are.”

He’s not sure where the words came from, but he felt them. Peggy doesn’t seem put off by his words.

“Poppies it is,” she said firmly with a nod.

 

 

Steve started his mornings looking forward to his days, and came home energetic and enthusiastic. He had the excitement of having Peggy in his life. And even things with Bucky had been looking up. Steve had spent another evening working in front of the TV, this time working on making Peggy’s final choice into a stencil that he would transfer onto her wall for speed and precision. Bucky had joined him when he’d come in around nine without a hint of bar-stench or alcohol. He immediately took control of the remote and switched from the History Channel to a reality show.

The hollow dread that had been pressed against his chest the past few months no longer seemed debilitating. In the span of just a couple weeks, he felt full and upbeat. Maybe this new normal could be a perfect start of the new chapter in his life. Maybe the past was now behind him. Everything finally felt like it was finally settling.

 

 

Steve was marking out his stencil with light pencil strokes. Peggy was sitting with her back against the opposite wall keeping him company, chatting, having told him she wanted to observe the artist.

He had come in a half-hour earlier with a backpack full of pint-sized cans of paint. He had held up three of them in one hand to show them off.

“Had to go to two hardware stores to get these samples. Had to lay it on pretty thick on how particular and persnickety my client was to get all these colors. Think they ended up sympathizing.”

“Hey,” she had let out, affronted. “Cheeky bugger.”

“Of course I was referring to Mr. Stark.” He grinned playfully. “Never you Peggy.”

She smiled brightly at him. He loved her smile. He found her so incredible attractive, it was unfair.

“Well played Steve Rogers.”

And then she had helped him carry over his supplies, under the tarp they set up underneath the wall in question.

“You sure Stark won’t be upset?” Steve asked, turning toward her.

Peggy rolled her eyes. “Don’t you worry about Howard. I can handle him. Besides this is beautiful Steve. You’re very talented.”

Steve’s ears turned pink.

“How’re you doing?” And then not long later, “How’s Bucky?” she inquired.

It didn’t escape Steve’s notice that Peggy remembered his best friend’s name despite not having mentioned him again. And it didn’t escape him that somehow, unbelievably above all odds, he held a bit of her interest. At one point their hands brushed and Steve could feel the warmth spread across his body, from his head to his toes.

 

 

_He was indoors, some kind of hall, maybe a banquet hall. He wasn’t sure. It seemed familiar but he wasn’t sure he’d ever been there before. It was bright, with warm yellows and reds in the center and mysterious, shadows lingering around the edges. And when he turned the quiet space full of vibrant life. Full of people dressed to the nines, sparkly liquor in equally sparkly glasses._

_He looks down. His sleeves are perfectly cuffed, his shoes polished so they gleam. He’s in his full military dress, medals pinned. And it feels right. He’s not sure why he’s standing there in the middle, but it seems like it’s the place to be. Even if he’s alone._

_But then he looks to his right. And there she is. She’s perfect and she’s in her full uniform too: full length skirt, tie neatly arranged. But her hair is unpinned and curled, flowing free around her face. And she’s smiling at him, lips fire red. They’re smiling at each other. She reaches out to him. And suddenly she’s slipping her hand into his and they’re dancing._

_“The war’s over, Steve,” Peggy murmured against his cheek._

_She was still smiling. So he spun her, out and then in, in toward him, in against his chest._

 

 

Steve awoke with a start, lurching in his bed. With bleary eyes he checked the time. 3:27 a.m. He felt something uncomfortable settle in his stomach as he wiped his forehead. Must have been Bucky coming in that woke him. Steve swallowed the displeasure that fact gave him and walked out to check on him. It was best to make sure he hadn’t passed out smacking into a wall or something equally befitting the uncoordinated movements of drunkenness.

But the hallway, living room and kitchen were empty. The apartment was dark with no sign of him. Apparently Bucky waltzing in drunk was not what woke him. Steve had gone to sleep hours and hours ago. Maybe Bucky had already come home.

Steve found Bucky’s bedroom door ajar. It was empty.

 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a stressful and devastating week. Here's some Steggy to distract you from the world a while.
> 
> This chapter is quite long and a bit plotty for reasons. Expect the next one to be quite a bit longer than usual too.
> 
> Mentions of blood.

 

 

 **“Every now and then one paints a picture that seems to have opened a door and serves as a stepping stone to other things.”**  
**― Pablo Picasso**

 

 

“Come on,” Steve said, waving his paintbrush at her. “You can do it.”

Peggy looked from his smile, a distraction of monumental proportions, to the paintbrush he was offering. Whether it be a wide roller, or a fine arts brush for detailed work, Steve Rogers had a way with paint. And it was mesmerizing.

“No, no. I couldn’t.”

Steve only grinned wider. “Not true. You’ve painted with me before. You painted a whole dining room wall.”

“That was different. Straight lines. This,” she said gesturing at the already transformed wall, “this I could mess up.”

Why was it that the big things seemed like no brainers? If you messed them up you’d get over the wracking heartache eventually, but when it came to the small things, they could cause endless sleep-deprived nights of agonizing or irritation.

“Oh come on Peggy, you can do it.”

It was just some paint on a wall.

“Really, Steve, I have no artistic abilities. Definitely none to compare to yours. I’d be too concerned with ruining your work.”

“You won’t!”

She loved his optimism, loved his ability to turn her into a smiling, giggling, carefree girl, even after long grueling days babysitting the likes of Howard Stark and the other asinine adolescents that gave her a hard time at work. But with Steve, life was simpler, kinder and more colorful.

“Just one flower. One leaf,” he urged, holding out the brush with the neat bristles even further.

Peggy hesitantly took the proffered brush. “Maybe a leaf. A tiny one. In the corner.” She bit back her own smile when his exploded across his face with triumph. “But you have to promise that when I muck up this lovely wall, you’ll be able to fix it.”

He laughed. “You won’t. I’ll show you exactly what to do.”

And so Peggy could only follow his instructions, as he showed her the leaf she was to paint, how she could fill the space with green paint in three easy strokes. But something about making the marks felt permanent, like they held a lot of weight.

However, she couldn’t deny that Steve, just inches from her back, caused a welcome flutter in her stomach. And when he adjusted the position of the brush in her fingers, she was delighted at him immediately pulling away, unaware his cheeks were blotchy. It wasn’t the first time she’d him react to her, but it was nice all the same, to know just the brushing of fingers could create a lovely effect on his face.

Peggy painted the three strokes quickly, like ripping off a bandaid, before she stuck the paintbrush right back into his hands.

Steve took a step back, and hummed loudly as his finger scratched under his chin.

“Ah, yes, see how the quick strokes show the artist’s intent to evoke movement within the piece,” he said in his best art critic voice.

She laughed. “Oh stop it.”

But when she stood back, she found that although it didn’t look particularly different than Steve’s, she would always know it was a leaf from her very hand.

 

Peggy’s happy night, blissfully dreaming of a handsome blond painter was cut short by a phone call at four a.m. It was Rose, calling for her immediate return to SHIELD headquarters. They finally got a hit on the suspected HYDRA agent they had been tracking for the past few months. He had just been spotted in New York.

She raced out of bed, grabbed the first outfit hanging in her closet, a skirt and blouse, and holstered her pistol in her thigh holster.

Howard was surprisingly already at SHIELD poking frantically at his tablet while scrolling on his cell phone at the same time. He followed her into her office without looking track of either device.

“What’s going on Howard?”

“Not looking good Peg,” he said without looking up.

“But we’ve located him?”

Howard nodded. “But we’ve got a problem. He’s got the weapon. And he means to distribute. And soon.”

“Where?” Peggy demanded. “We go retrieve it now, before it ends up in anyone else’s hands.”

“Rose and Thompson are narrowing it down. But if you’re going in hot,” he finally looked up at her, “as if ever don’t, you have to take precautions. This thing, it’s volatile.”

“What are we talking? An active explosive? The likes of your Nitramene?”

Howard grunted. “Worse Peg. For once, this isn’t one of my bad babies. This one… given the heat signature and what we know of HYDRA, they’re not afraid to play dirty. Real dirty.”

“Howard, believe it or not, I trust you, at least when it comes to scientific analysis. Tell what what’s worrying you.”

“Definitely some nasty piece of chemical weaponry. I think they mean to sell this to whoever wants it the most, to cause as much damage as possible. Only I worry they mean it to be a nasty way to have it spread. Lethal, probably very hazardous.”

Peggy cursed.

“Let’s get the team prepped,” she said firmly.

Twenty minutes later, Peggy was heading out, catching a ride from Mr. Jarvis while Roberts, Sousa, Thompson and Ramirez headed out in separate cars.

“Ah, to embark on another adventure with you Ms. Carter,” Jarvis said with a familiar twinkle in his eye.

“Yes, it’s been a while since you’ve rushed head first into certain danger,” Peggy replied dryly.

“I’m merely assisting in any way that I can,” he said cheerfully, “and happy to do so.”

Truthfully, she had missed his assistance just as much.

“And how’s your dear Mrs. Jarvis?”

“As lovely as ever. She’s been hoping to have you over for a real dinner sometime soon.”

Peggy tried to recall when exactly she had spent any real time with the Jarvises. Sure, she had run into them both a handful of times when she said at Howard’s home a few weeks back, but she had purposefully spent much of her time in her office to avoid them feeling obligated to include her in meals.

“Yes, I suppose it has been a while. Work’s kept me rather busy. That whole debacle with Senator Brandt took far too long to smooth out.”

“Naturally, I have explained as much to Ana.”

There was no accusation or guilt-tripping in Jarvis’ tone, and yet Peggy felt guilty all the same. Sure, she had a lot going on, but perhaps she had neglected those who had so readily taken her in. It wasn’t that she meant to, just that she supposed it was easier for them all this way.

“And of course, you’ve had your hands full with the remodel,” Mr. Jarvis added.

“Indeed.”

“I’ve heard Mr. Stark has some lovely ideas for further improvements on the interior.”

Peggy made a noise of disgust.

“I’m rather hoping he never gets the chance to pursue that ridiculous idea.”

“Oh?”

“The only way to really fix Howard’s ego issues is for him to find himself a proper project. Until then, I plan to delay his so-called improvements. Shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“And what do these plans consist of, if I may ask?”

“I’m having some of my walls worked on. And until the painter is finished, and I’m happy with the results, it’s too risky for some interior designer to walk in, trip over paint cans and tarps, and start thinking of decoration schemes that will clash with my unfinished paintwork.”

She could’ve sworn Jarvis looked amused. But before he could respond, Howard was barking spurts of information into her earpiece.

 

The sun had barely risen and it had all gone to shit. The weapon had turned up in a van full of identical volatile weapons in unassuming, nonthreatening boxes. And while Peggy had managed to grab a box out of the van, she had narrowly missed being shot. A bullet whizzed right by her ear. Then as she reached for her own gun, a second bullet grazed the outer side of her left thigh, a few inches above the knee. She managed to avoid dropping the box, just in time for Rose and Thompson to subdue and cuff the HYDRA agent.

But just as Peggy hissed in pain, just noticing the dripping blood, the van behind her had screeched out of the alley. Apparently the agent hadn’t been working alone as they assumed. And in the commotion, he managed to drive off with a van full of dangerous weapons. Peggy ignored her wound, set the box in Jarvis’ care and shouted orders at her team as she took off running after the van. She trained a shot, but just as it landed somewhere off the back of the vehicle, it disappeared around the corner. By the time Sousa and Ramirez had caught up, with Jarvis pulling up behind them, the van was long gone.

“Damn it,” Peggy bellowed in frustration.

“We’ll get it outta that scumbag in interrogation,” Thompson said.

“Uh Carter?” Sousa said as the rest of her team headed to the cars to regroup back at headquarters. “You’re bleeding.”

Peggy, still fuming with failure, was annoyed at his concern.

“I’m fine Agent Sousa,” she snapped. “Let’s get back to work.”

Daniel looked like he wanted to protest, but he didn’t. Instead he headed right back around and into the car Rose was driving.

Once he was gone, she cursed again. Mr. Jarvis ran out of the car surveying the blood.

“Perhaps we should stop on the way and get that looked at.”

“No need, Mr. Jarvis. It’s not as bad as it looks. And I’m tight on time as it were.”

Wordlessly, Jarvis pulled out his handkerchief and gestured her into the passenger seat.

“Well, let’s make sure the blood doesn’t stain the immaculate leather interior,” he said casually. “You know how Mr. Stark would fuss.”

Peggy watched him finagle a makeshift wound dressing with both his handkerchief and his tie wrapped snugly around it.

“This feels very familiar,” Peggy commented.

“Truck full of deadly weapons, Agent Carter refusing to let a wound stop her from seeking justice. Yes indeed, I think I’ve heard this tale a few times before.”

“I’m very lucky that you still insist on carrying around a handkerchief,” Peggy said.

“Quite, Ms. Carter. This is just one of many instances in the practicality of the old tradition of keeping a handkerchief on hand,” he replied in the same jovial tone. “I believe I shall carry one as long as we shall be acquainted.”

She smiled softly. “For quite some time then Mr. Jarvis.”

With her leg all wrapped, Jarvis headed back for the driver’s seat. Peggy shifted her left leg experimentally, just barely managing to hold in a whimper.

 

It was sunrise when they made it back to SHIELD. The day had barely begun and she already had a potential catastrophe on her hands to prevent. And as much as she ignored her leg, it throbbed, aching for attention. But she had no time to deal with a mere graze when there was some psychopath hauling around a while stock of dangerous chemical weapons. And she didn’t know what HYDRA was planning. She could imagine hundreds of increasingly terrible scenarios.

She focused on their two advantages: they had a man in custody, and Stark was already busy at work with the box Peggy had managed to retrieve.

 

It’s afternoon when they finally had a break in the case. After long hours of interrogation, they found out that the explosive was going to be sold, auctioned off to various dangerous parties of New York City, without them even knowing the full extent of the weapon they were bidding on. What better way to incite terror than by having the city’s own residents dole out the dirty work.

Between the results of the interrogation, scrubbing hours of street camera footage, Stark analyzing the weapon and finally locating the site of the auction, Peggy felt more optimistic at completing the mission the way she had intended that morning.

She sent Agent Thompson to the auction, ostensibly because he was capable and trustworthy enough to handle that kind of assignment but also because his paired look and personality would fit right in with the sycophants and conniving kingpins in attendance.

It paid off. Big time.

By five-thirty, with no suspicions raised, Thompson had the winner’s delivery destination and the time of the drop.

It looked like she had a date at eleven p.m.

It was with this information that Peggy decided on the plan of her alone dropping in on the delivery. She’d have two backup teams stationed a half-mile out, but they needed to do this quietly, especially after the suspicions raised by the morning’s performance.

No, she would go it alone, quick and quiet, and attempt to steal the weapons from right under them.

The plan was set with no more use sitting around the office when she needed to get home and finish her prep. She headed home, hoping for a power-nap. Maybe she’d get a chance to rest her leg.

On her way out, Jarvis ran out of Stark’s office to join her, insisting on giving her a ride. She sighed but relented. The sooner she got home, the better, especially given the state of her thigh.

Jarvis refused to let her out of the car once they reached the loft.

“You know Ms. Carter, perhaps I could be of service tonight.”

“Mr. Jarvis, I am perfectly capable of doing this on my own.”

“Of course, I would never insinuate you are not incomparably skilled. However, it seems to me a very good idea to have a driver. Perhaps even a getaway car. And given your injury—”

“My leg is just fine,” she protested stubbornly.

“If you plan on posing as a rival buyer, it would do to really play the part.”

“Mr. Jarvis, I will not ask for your assistance. Not with a huge risk of you getting hurt. This morning already was a close call.”

“I’d merely act as your chauffeur for the evening. And I trust you to protect your humble servant.”

Peggy frowned, although the idea had merit. It would make her life easier.

“Fine. But you remain in the car. And you follow my orders to the letter.”

Jarvis’ mouth turned momentarily into a gleeful grin before he sobered up once more.

“Of course, Ms. Carter.”

She rolled her eyes. “Be here by half past nine. We’ll need to do some reconnaissance before we meet our friends.”

She marched through the lobby and into the elevator. Only on her way up, all alone, did she squeeze her eyes shut, feeling the full burning agony of her wound. She really did need to dress it properly.

Peggy grimaced and limped off the elevator looking forward to a moment’s rest.

Only her heart sunk further.

Sitting against the wall, just next to her door was Steve. She felt horrible. In the complete mess of her day, she had entirely forgotten their scheduled meet-up more than an hour earlier. It had escaped her completely, and yet there he was, still waiting for her.

He stared at her. Peggy realized she was still grimacing in pain. She immediately fixed her expression.

“I completely forgot,” she said. “I am so sorry. You shouldn’t have waited so long.”

She hoped she came across as nonchalant but sincerely apologetic, the latter of which was true.

But Steve’s gaze was still hard and he was looking at her legs.

Peggy pushed aside the curse bubbling at the tip of her tongue.

“Really, I feel horrible,” she said, unlocking the door. “I’ve wasted so much of your time.”

He held the door open with a broad palm, apparently still refusing to leave. Peggy forced herself not to limp across the threshold, biting her lip to avoid showing any visible sign of pain.

“I actually have to go back to work, so…” she said, hoping this would be enough to turn him around. “We’ll reschedule.”

He closed the door behind them.

“Peggy.”

“I promise not the stand you up again,” she said with a cheery put-on smile. “And of course, I will pay you for your time.”

His frown deepened.

“Peggy you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

Steve crossed his arms. “You’re limping.”

“No I’m not.”

“Prove it,” he said firmly.

Peggy’s mouth opened to retort, to respond to his audacious command, only nothing came out. Instead, she gritted her teeth, inhaled and took exactly two careful steps forward, barely able to ignore the shooting pain. She glowered right at him as if to underline her point.

Steve was no more convinced.

“And how long do you think you can keep that up?”

“Until I’m finished with my job tonight,” she spat, accidentally moving in a way that sent another shooting pain through her leg. She let out an involuntary gasp.

Steve raced toward her, arms reaching to steady her.

Peggy looked defiantly at him but it was clear it was futile to try and fool Steve. She let herself be helped to the couch.

“Really, I’m fine.”

Steve pushed the coffee table closer before reaching gently for her left leg, stretching it out to rest on it.

“Can I take a look?”

She sighed and shrugged. He took this as a yes.

He sat at the edge of the coffee table and lifted her foot onto his lap. Her bare leg. He took her black stilettos off, his fingers brushing her ankles as he did. She almost let out a pleased noise. He didn’t touch her any more, just examined the visible length of her leg. She was mesmerized by his concentrated gaze.

“Upper thigh?” he guessed.

“Outer side,” she finally admitted.

Her skirt was already hitched just above her knees.

“May I?”

“Well you’ve already gotten this far,” she said.

There was a flicker of annoyance in Steve’s gaze, but he was undeterred.

Very carefully, he slipped her skirt up until it hit mid-thigh and part of the handkerchief and tie dressing appeared.

“Make-shift bandage?” he asked.

She hummed in response, her eyes closed at another wave of pain. She felt Steve’s hand reach part handkerchief, part thigh. The sound of Steve sucking a breath in through his teeth refocused her attention. He held up his index finger. It was wet with blood.

Peggy rolled her eyes, feeling betrayed at her own body. It hadn’t leaked all afternoon.

“Where’s your first aid kid?”

“I’ll get it. Really, I’ll clean it up later. I have to go—”

“Peggy, you are bleeding,” he enunciated, his face grave. “Now if you’d rather I don’t tear through your apartment, tell me where I can find it.”

“Under the bathroom sink,” she told him finally.

She sighed and slunk lower on the couch as he walked down the hall, pressing the unwrapped handkerchief back into her thigh. She appreciated his concern, really, she did. It was sweet, but she had to get ready for the mission.

Steve returned with the first aid kit and one of her bath towels.

“I thought you could…” he said, gesturing the towel at her lap.

He had had his hands up her skirt and he was still concerned over her modesty. Peggy tucked the towel between her legs and draped it over each side before she pulled her skirt further up, baring more of her left thigh to him.

Steve sat back on the coffee table and gently placed her leg back into his lap. He worked on unwrapping Jarvis’ tie and as he unwound it, his hand brushed up against something that was decidedly not skin. Her pistol was still holstered. She had forgotten she hadn’t taken it off yet. His eyes widened at the sight and she knew it wasn’t because she was packing. Another smirk found itself playing on her lips.

Peggy reached down for it, unholstered the gun, made sure the safety was in place and set it aside on the end table. It took him a good moment to refocus on the task at hand.

But a second later he was inhaling sharply.

“This is a bullet wound,” he said plainly.

He was in the military and he had just watched her remove her pistol, for goodness sake there was no point bothering to deny it.

“I’ve had worse,” she replied instead.

It was true. She had suffered worse pains than this.

Steve looked at her in disbelief. “Peggy.”

What was it about him saying her name that made her feel like a scolded schoolgirl after getting caught in some mischief?

“It’s just a graze.”

“This needs stitches,” he cried back.

She bit her lip. She had been afraid of that.

“I’ll be fine. Like I said, I’ve had worse. And I have some unfinished business to attend to.”

Steve frowned deeply. “I’ll do it. Where’s your needle and thread?”

Peggy frowned back. “I don’t have time—”

“You have a bullet wound. If you don’t have time to go to the hospital then I’m going to stitch you up.” He stood without waiting for a response and started rummaging through nearby drawers.

“What, were you an army doctor?” she asked sarcastically, now truly annoyed.

“I’ve had enough relevant training,” he said with a straight face.

For some reason, even with the mild irritation flaring up within her, she found herself amused.

“In my bedroom, top left-hand drawer of the vanity,” she said, her clipped tone warring with her amused eyes. “And no dilly-dallying,” she yelled in his direction as he made his way down the hall.

“You ever get stitches like this?” Steve asked once he was back in place, cleaning her wound.

“Yes,” she replied matter-of-factly. “You ever give anyone stitches like this?”

He nodded, his skilled hands treating her skin delicately. “Twice. One was an arm wound, the other in the abdomen. That one was a lot messier than this.”

She snorted.

Just before he started stitching, he made a point of asking for her pain level.

“I’m just fine,” she said for the umpteenth time.

“I’m so sick and tired of everyone hiding their pain from me.”

His harsh tone actually startled her. She noted that he seemed upset but it didn’t seem right to ask.

“I’ll tell you if you’re hurting me,” she amended in a softer tone.

His eyes softened and he nodded, his full attention back on her wound.

Steve was meticulous and nimble, and within minutes she was all sewn up. He even found her two Steve-approved painkillers to ease the swelling and pain.

“Thank you,” she told him in a soft voice, looking from his blood-stained hands to her freshly bandaged thigh.”

“You’re welcome,” he said.

Steve carefully maneuvered both her legs along the length of the couch before leaving to wash his hands.

Peggy gave herself the brief moment to close her eyes, stretch her neck, and breathe. The moment she heard Steve’s approaching footsteps, her eyes opened, her face was schooled, and her skirt was pulled back down into place.

Steve was drying his hands, his gaze still hard and serious.

“Well…” Peggy said, leaning forward to prepare to move off the couch.

“What are you doing?”

“I really do have to go.”

He crossed his arms, his face in full disapproval.

She stood shakily, shifting all her weight onto her right leg, and crossed her arms mimicking his posture.

“So this unfinished business you have,” he started, “it’s in no way related to how you got that bullet wound?”

Peggy lifted her chin, grinding her teeth as irritation flared up again. She couldn’t possibly say anything either way, because she can’t share any information to a private citizen, as much as she liked and trusted Steve.

“It’s just a graze,” she hedged instead. “And I’m all patched up now.”

He didn’t budge.

“If you’ll excuse me.”

He blocked her path, not that he needed to because she faltered on her third step and he had to reach out to steady her.

“I’m not leaving,” Steve said.

And in that moment, she knew he was every bit as stubborn as her.

“Steve,” she said inhaling, “I’ve got everything under control.”

“Listen,” he sighed, “I’m not an idiot. You don’t have to tell me anything. I know you probably can’t. But Peggy, you can hardly walk. And I know you are not going back to some office to stare at a computer for the rest of the night.”

Peggy bit her lip. “I really appreciate your concern, really I do, but I cannot and will not ask for your help.”

“And what’s to stop me from following you?”

Peggy had to hide another amused smile. “Common decency and a respect for my privacy.”

Steve looked chagrined, caught off guard by a legitimate claim that she suspected he assumed she wouldn’t have. She could see exactly how hard he was working on a rebuttal.

“Okay, fair. But we’re talking about you walking into a dangerous situation. Without being able to actually walk.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I believe that. But think about this tactically. If it were anyone else, would you be sending them in alone under these conditions? They’d be more of a liability than an asset.”

He wasn’t wrong. But there was also a reason she hadn’t delegated the assignment either.

“You’re very stubborn,” she said, faintly smiling.

He narrowed his eyes, his biceps flexing as his arms banded tighter across his chest.

“Says the woman who would rather pretend she could walk just fine like she wasn’t leaking blood, than let me patch her up.” He quirked his eyebrow daring her to argue.

She looked him up and down carefully. Perhaps having someone of his overbearing stature could be beneficial. As long as it was kept quiet.

“We do this on my terms.”

Steve didn’t bother to hide his grin.

“It’s need to know and after tonight, you never speak of it again. You were here, painting. Nothing more.”

She saw the military readiness in his stance, and wondered how they had gotten to this point. This was a terrible idea.

Peggy sighed in sheer exhaustion, their face-off doing nothing good for her thigh.

“Well I guess that nap is out of the question now,” she muttered to herself.

Steve looked at his watch. “What time do you have to… get back to work?”

Peggy checked her phone. She had time sure, but there was still plenty she needed to do. She should check in on Stark, and confirm that both her teams were gearing up. And now, she also had to factor in not only Jarvis, but Steve as well. This was why she preferred working alone. She could control all the factors.

“Nine-thirty,” she said.

“Plenty of time to rest then. And you really should elevate that leg.”

She hummed noncommittally as a response.

“I need to take care of some things.”

Steve nodded. “Do I get to hear what I need to know?”

“Perhaps later. On the way.”

“Do we need a ride? I could probably borrow a car or something.”

“Steve, believe it or not, I really do have a handle on things. Now go relax, watch TV, help yourself to the fridge, what have you.”

But he insisted on helping her to her room first.

Inside, once she shut the door behind her, Peggy limped straight for her closet. If she was going to play the part as a rival buyer, she’d have to look it. And what better way than to have them underestimate her as nothing but a well-dressed woman. She pulled out one of the fancier dresses in her wardrobe then headed to the vanity to fix her hair and makeup. She found herself following Steve’s instructions and set her left leg on the nearby ottoman as she worked.

All the while she contemplated what Steve’s role in all this could be. Backup was definitely handy. She supposed a well-to-do woman would never be caught alone, whether he would play her date or the silent partner. She supposed the specifics didn’t quite matter. He and Jarvis would stay in the car.

When she walked out of the bedroom more than an hour later, a twenty minute power-nap under her belt, she was dressed, made up and holstered up, with her purse packed with gadgets. She was surprised to find Steve working on the poppies. She forgot herself for a moment and lost herself in admiring his work.

Steve turned after finishing a crimson petal and nearly jumped at the sight of her. Her lip curled and she raised her eyebrow, daring him to comment. He couldn’t look away. She wondered whether it was the glittery dress or the blonde wig.

“Wow,” he said in a gasp.

Perhaps it was the whole effect.

She was surprisingly affected by the compliment.

“We’ve got about half an hour until our ride arrives.”

Steve’s eyes hadn’t left her. But then he was looking down at himself, setting down his paintbrush.

“Um, you’re not going to a black tie thing are you? Because I don’t think I should stand next to you looking like this.”

Peggy smiled. “You look just fine to me. However…” She motioned him down the hall and into the guest room. “Perhaps a jacket could be of use.”

“You keep men’s clothing around in case of an emergency?”

“You’d be surprised what comes in handy,” she replied dryly. “It’s one the consequences of moving into a Stark residence that used to be for, well let’s just say, recreation. I haven’t quite purged the place of his things.” She rifled through the closet until she selected a few hangers. “Luckily, my less than impressive housekeeping, benefits us tonight.”

She handed him a stack to look through.

“Why don’t you try these on, and have a further look in the closet. Whatever fits will be just fine. I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Peggy closed the door behind her, trying not to think about broad-chested Steve squeezing into some of Jarvis’ and Howard’s old things. Instead, she put on the kettle, and grabbed some cheese out of the fridge for snacking.

Steve joined her minutes later, wearing a snug black jacket over his own t-shirt, his jeans now belted, and his work boots swapped for a pair of brown oxfords. He looked at her for approval. As if even old-fashioned shoes with jeans could make him look any less adorable.

“None of the pants fit,” he said apologetically.

 _I’ll bet they didn’t_ , thought Peggy before she could scold herself. _Focus. Work. Be an adult._

“You look fine,” she said.

“So the outfit…” he said, gesturing to her dress and clearing his throat. “Part of the plan?”

Peggy nodded as she considered exactly what he needed to know, and how she could get away with telling him. She popped a few grapes into her mouth before passing some to Steve.

“It’s a retrieval job. And it needs to happen nice and quiet, with no red flags raised.”

“And this retrieval, involves sensitive materials?” he guessed.

“Very,” Peggy said. “The package was auctioned off earlier today. Now I’m going to pose as a rival interested party. If I can get them to give it so much the better. If not, I’ll turn to more persuasive methods.”

Steve pursed his lips. “And I take it, you’ve got your pistol all ready to go?” She only quirked her brow and smiled. “You don’t happen to have an extra piece do you?”

Peggy frowned. Of course she did. But she wondered if it was a good idea. She was suddenly reminded that this was a man who had just recently come home from war. A man who had suffered physically and mentally as all soldiers did.

“Steve,” Peggy started in a soft voice. “I don’t know that bringing you to an unsafe situation is such a good idea.”

Steve smiled politely. “I’m very well trained in all kinds of firearms,” he assured her.

“Yes, well, I admit that wasn’t at the top of my list of concerns.”

Something in his expression changed, but he only stood taller. “I don’t need a gun. I’m going with you.”

“But to go into an unknown situation. One that I can’t reassure you is necessary, or give you the details…”

“I trust you. And I don’t want to see you get hurt any further,” he said staring straight into her eyes. “That’s enough for me. And if I couldn’t handle this, I wouldn’t insist at the risk of putting you in more danger.”

He wasn’t wearing a uniform but Peggy could easily picture him in one. Helmet, boots, the works.

Peggy strode over to a cabinet in the living room and hit a switch that revealed one of her hidden safes. She punched in the code and her thumbprint and took out her backup piece, its magazine and her soft, leather shoulder holster. She handed them all over to Steve.

Immediately, he shed his jacket and adjusted he holster into place with quick fingers. She liked the way the strap had tightened his shirt around his muscles. With military precision he handled and assembled the gun before he holstered it, slipping the borrowed jacket all over it again.

“One more thing, and this is essential,” she said with emphasis. “Don’t aim that anywhere near the package.”

“Roger that.” He gave her a salute.

She grinned.

 

Before Jarvis could even attempt exiting the car, Peggy threw the door to the backseat open.

“Mr. Jarvis, this is Steve Rogers. He’s a friend and he’s playing backup for the night on a need to know basis,” she said without preamble, before either man asked too many questions.

Jarvis, bless him, never one to be daunted by strange circumstances or company, politely greeted him.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve said leaning forward, offering out his hand from his spot next to her.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir. And how do you know Ms. Carter?”

“Oh, uh, I’m her, I mean… I’m a painter.”

Jarvis caught her eye in the rearview mirror. Peggy rolled her eyes.

“Not unlike yourself Jarvis, Steve here has forced my hand into being allowed to aid tonight’s cause.”

“Well Mr. Rogers, you must have been quite persuasive. Ms. Carter is not easily swayed.”

Peggy sighed.

“Well seeing as she could hardly walk, I couldn’t just let her go out on her own.”

Peggy groaned. She had hoped to avoid Jarvis hearing anything further regarding her morning’s injury.

“Couldn’t walk? Ms. Carter! Am I to hear that the injury you sustained this morning was more severe than you led me to believe?”

She glared at Steve. “I’m fine Jarvis. Steve’s had military level medical training and I am just fine,” she replied, still glaring fixedly at Steve who she was annoyed to find did not look sympathetic or apologetic in the least.

She knew it was childish to be irritated over having people care about her wellbeing but quite frankly it was overbearing, and wasted too much precious time.

“You can understand why he’s such a respectable butler to Howard Stark. He’s part loyal friend, part worrying mother,” she said sarcastically.

“Well, I appreciate you not describing as a nagging one then,” Jarvis replied.

She just might.

“You’re Stark’s butler?” Steve asked, before she could retort.

“Yes, indeed, sir.”

Luckily introductions and concerns over her fell by the wayside and they eased into the task at hand. Peggy reiterated to them both that they were backup and meant to do as she said.

But as they turned a corner nearing the destination, Steve became distressed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. This is mob territory.” Steve said with wide eyes.

“Yes, and?” Peggy said, well aware of the neighborhood’s attractions.

“So, these guys don’t mess around. When the Irish mob broke up into factions to avoid the Feds, they became more lethal than ever. Any sign of an enemy, they just dump them into the river.”

“I can handle them.”

“Peggy I’m telling you, you gotta go into this smart. Here’s what we’ll do. Instead of just your backup I’m going to play your bodyguard. Jarvis continues to be the chauffeur, no problem. They’ll be more receptive if you’re also Irish. You can be one of the many O’Brien crime family daughters looking to help daddy expand his failing enterprises. Can you fake an American accent? Actually, you can also just say nothing at all. Respectable mob daughter lets her hired help do the dirty work for her.”

Instead of being irritated at Steve taking over her mission, Peggy smiled. He made some good points and there’s something about him taking charge so readily. She couldn’t imagine he wasn’t one of those natural army leaders that soldiers flocked to work beside. It’s a solid plan. He even looked the part, with his impossibly large build, the blond hair and blue eyes enough to prove his heritage.

“Alright, you make a good case,” Peggy told him. “But the priority remains the same. If we can’t negotiate a buy, or steal it from under them, we take them out, quietly, nonlethal. The package we’re after will likely come in a white van by a third party. Keep your eyes on him. We also can’t let him get away. Mr. Jarvis you keep the car ready in case of a getaway. And once we secure all of the delivery, we drive it out of here. Understood?”

Both men agreed heartily.

“You’ll need a good solid Irish name,” Steve suggested. “How about Molly?”

“And what’s your alias?”

“Sean Michael, at your service. Can’t be much more from mother Ireland than that.”

They grinned at each other.

She told Jarvis to circle the scene while she pulled two small Stark-issued security cameras out of her bag.

“I want to be able to see these guys before they see us coming,” she told them.

“It’s definitely that street?” Steve asked. “Should get up high enough to hide them from view, but with a low angle so they don’t miss anything.”

It was exactly what she had just planned on saying.

“I’ll do it,” he said. “Between the second and third story, Peggy?”

She watched him slip out and easily scale the fire escape.

“Your friend is quite an accomplished climber,” Jarvis said in a voice Peggy recognized as not entirely forthright, and definitely not about Steve’s climbing.

“Yes, he’s quite skilled.” She was going to ignore all attempts at his needling.

“Are those last season Ferragamo Oxfords Mr. Rogers is sporting?” Peggy glared. “Well they are very becoming. Of course, he’s a very handsome gentleman. I can see why you’ve chosen to retain his services.”

“Please, please stop,” Peggy groaned. “And it’s not like that. Steve’s a good man.”

“A good man is hard to find,” Jarvis replied loftily.

“Jarvis!”

“My sincerest apologies Ms. Carter,” he said in exactly the tone that indicated the absolute opposite of sincerity.

“Don’t tell Howard.”

Peggy focused on her tablet, watching as the first of the two cameras flickered to life on the screen, as Steve easily hopped to street level and headed down the street. Once the second was in place, Peggy had Jarvis signal a thumbs-up to Steve. He jumped back into the car and Jarvis drove a good block away.

“And now we wait,” Mr. Jarvis said.

“Now we wait,” she echoed.

She was still very much focused on the camera feeds but acutely aware of how close Steve was sitting, leaning so he could study the screen.

Twenty minutes prior to the meeting, her earpiece buzzed to life as both her teams checked in, already in place and completed surveillance of their own.

“One and two, stay in position. The retrieval is the priority here. Don’t blow cover until I give you the go-ahead,” Peggy instructed them.

She noticed that Steve was very focused on checking out the street around them, eyes scanning up and down the street. Peggy loved his concentration, knowing it well from the hours he spent painting, and to see it as an ever present part of his personality was intriguing. But what struck her even more was how hard he was trying to give her privacy, to prove he wasn’t nosing into her business any more than she wanted. It was no wonder her instinct had been to let him come along.

The same white van with the dent of her bullet, pulled up with another car coming from the opposite direction, signaling with their lights. While the scene unfolded, the two parties slowly exiting their vehicles, Peggy sent pictures to SHIELD and her teams. Within a minute Stark’s facial recognition system identified the men from the dark car as low-level criminals, except for the man with the gelled back hair in the middle, as well known mobster Patrick Dolan.

“Dolan?” Steve exclaimed. “He’s a nasty piece of work. Word is he’s been recruiting. He got involved in some insane Triad deal that went south. And he’s always been one to dole out his own creative punishments on those that wrong him.”

Peggy raised her brow in surprise. “So he’s also fallen on hard times? Maybe we can use that information to our advantage.”

“Offer an alliance? He won’t go for it.”

“No, but he sure might want to try to fool us into one so he can stab us in the back.”

“Especially with you playing the naïve, desperate daughter of a down-on-his-luck fellow mobster.”

Peggy smiled as she nodded at him. “Exactly.”

They counted Dolan’s goons, waiting until the unidentifiable seller left his vehicle. Dolan had three guys, and a driver that remained in the car. They’d need to split that party up. They hatched the remaining pieces of the plan, and with a quick look at Steve who nodded in readiness, Peggy told Jarvis to pull the car up to the party.

Steve got out and was immediately met with guns cocked in his face.

“Take it easy,” Steve said in his best put-on offended Irish brogue, putting up his palms.

“And who the fuck are you supposed to be?” Dolan yelled, while Peggy’s attention remained on the unknown man from the white van.

“I’m representing an interested party looking to get in on something they didn’t get at the auction. And they would pay a lot to make it worth your while.”

“And what party has been sniffing around my business to dare interrupt a private sale.”

Steve, Peggy was proud to see, seemed stoic and unaffected by Dolan or his gun-brandishing buffoons.

“Let’s just say the O’Briens wouldn’t be opposed to working toward a common goal.”

Dolan grinned churlishly. “Would they now. Ain’t that sumthin’.” He turned his head over his shoulder to his thugs who lowered their weapons. “The thing is sonny, I paid well for my cargo. And it’d take a hell of a negotiation to convince me.”

Peggy, her teams supplied with faces and license plates, took her opening. She slid out of the car, bare leg first.

“I think we’ll have no problem coming to a happy arrangement,” Peggy said in her best American accent. Steve whipped his head around and she knew the well-performed accent caught him off guard.

“Molly, I told ya to stay in the car,” he recovered, well enough to impress her.

She scoffed as she flicked a long strand of blonde hair from her face. It was very effective on Dolan’s goons. And she reveled in the surprise on Dolan’s face.

“You work for me,” she directed at Steve in her most condescending voice. “And this is my deal to make. And I’d like to do it fast. I have plans you know. Places to be.” For effect, she checked her phone, and then inspected her red nails.

Dolan turned to his guys again, winking at them. Peggy grinned pleasantly back.

 _Good, feel comfortable, you wanker,_ she thought.

“I work for your father,” Steve replied coldly.

“Same thing,” she replied lazily.

“Come now boy, let the lovely lady speak,” Dolan said pleased with an apparent disagreement before him. “Come now doll, you wanted to talk business.”

She pretended not to hear the patronizing tone.

“Yes. You see father wouldn’t approve, but he just doesn’t see how much good this business deal could do us all. He’s hit a bit of bad luck lately and isn’t willing to take a risk. But I am.”

“And how will this make the both of us better off honey?”

“I get something I want, to help my father, and you get rewarded very… generously.”

“Dollface, if your father’s down on his luck, ain’t no way you can swing even as much as I paid.”

“Oh but I can.”

“Molly!” Steve said warningly, playing his part.

“How much are you asking?” Peggy continued, ignoring him.

Before Dolan could lean forward to tell her, Steve had stepped right between them, pressing his palm flat against Dolan’s chest. Peggy sighed dramatically. Once Steve had heard the whispered offer, he whispered it on to Peggy.

She smirked and looked straight at Dolan. “I’ll double that.”

Dolan sniggered. “Lady, you think I don’t know when someone’s try’na swindle me? Ain’t no way you got that money.”

She grinned wider. “Oh but I do. See there’s this tech billionaire daddy doesn’t approve of, he’s not Catholic, and not a drop of Irish blood. But he’d do anything to have me. And so we’re going to convince daddy just how well my fiancé can take care of his lovely daughter.” She gave her best love-struck sigh.

This made Dolan grin again. “I’m listening, dollface.”

“I can give you a sizeable down payment in cash now, and immediately wire over the rest to an account of your choosing,” Peggy said. “All secure. Like I said, tech billionaire.”

“You came prepared, sweetheart. I’m impressed.”

Peggy shot him a saccharine smile. “I always do.”

Dolan stuck out his hand and Peggy smirked as she returned it.

“See Sean? I can take care of myself,” she said cheerily to Steve who frowned.

Excellent, this was going just beautifully.

And as Peggy led Dolan toward the trunk of the car with one of his guys not far behind, the seller and the other goons stayed right behind Steve, only one with his gun at the ready.

“I do hope this means our families could help each other out from now on. It’s a different world. Always have to look over your shoulder,” she said cheerfully.

And then, just as she popped open the trunk, she heard the expected sound of Dolan reaching for his gun. Steve met Peggy’s eye and with an imperceptible nod they both turned on their men. Peggy slammed Dolan down against the trunk, just as Steve knocked a goon’s arm so hard his gun clattered to the ground. Dolan grabbed her on his way down just as the other goon rounded the car. Peggy slammed her leg into Dolan who stayed down. In a perfectly timed flash the passenger door slammed open and Mr. Jarvis knocked Dolan’s thug to the ground.

Two down, two to go.

“Nicely time, Jarvis,” she huffed, jumping over the fallen man just as the seller started for the white van. Steve was still fighting off Dolan's other two guys. Unfortunately, Dolan’s beefy looking driver had decided to join the fight, and Steve already had his hands full.

“Behind!” she shouted loud enough to startle the two thugs.

Steve landed a hard blow on the driver’s stomach, before throwing him to the ground. But as he rendered him unconscious, one of the thugs lunged at Steve. She cracked her gun at the back of his skull just in time for Steve to spin around to watch him fall, and go after the last of Dolan’s men. Peggy was free to deal with the seller and the cargo.

Incensed by her pursuit, the seller growled and charged directly toward her. She gave him a roundhouse kick as her purse smacked him across the face. Peggy pulled open the back doors of the van. And there they were, the same boxes, neatly loaded with vials made for destruction, just like that morning.

“Peggy, look out!” Steve yelled.

She twisted her head just in time to see the seller at her feet pull her to the ground, hard. She gasped at the contact of the rough ground beneath, and saw him train a gun at her. He was aiming too close to the truck, too close to her. Too close to causing a catastrophic explosion. With all her might she slammed herself into him, throwing them both clear of the van. And as she fell to her knees again, she realized he still had his gun in hand. Peggy looked up toward the barrel just as a crack whipped past her. The bullet had pierced the guy’s shoulder. He stumbled and dropped his gun to clutch his shoulder.

Steve ran to her, kicking the guy’s gun away.

“Nice shot,” she said admiringly, wincing with pain.

Steve was trying to help her up when Peggy spotted the seller writhing.

“Wait! I need him alive.”

Steve obeyed and ran over to check the shoulder wound. Peggy crawled over. And just as she did, she saw him smirk and cackle at her, his mouth wide.

“No!” she gasped, eliciting a surprised look from Steve, drawing his attention away from the guy he was clutching.

“Hail HYDRA,” he croaked just as he bit into his tooth. Not a second later he foamed at the mouth.

It took a moment for Steve to let go of the dead man. Peggy sighed as she stood, wobbling on her heels.

“Are they all out Jarvis?” she asked as he approached.

“Yes, Ms. Carter. I’ve even taken the liberty of administering a light sedative to ensure maximum time to wrap up the scene.”

“Great initiative Jarvis.”

Steve inhaled sharply.

“Oh dear.”

“Peggy… You’re bleeding.”

She could see blood oozing down her thigh. She withheld a curse. Both concerned men stepped forward, arms outstretched. Even before Steve’s hand reached her leg and shifted the skirt of her dress, she had a sinking suspicion of what he’d find.

“Shit. Peggy you ripped your stitches open.”

“Stitches?” Jarvis asked incredulously.

Peggy shifted away from Steve’s hand, wobbling and struggling to stay upright. She had to resort to resting half on Steve, half against the bumper of the van.

“Peggy, we need to take you to the hospital.”

“No! We’re not finished here. Then van is the priority here. I need to take it in. Safely.” She bit her lip as she thought. “It’ll have to be driven. It’s the easiest way.”

“Peggy, no way are you driving in this state,” Steve said.

“Well you can’t do it. You don’t know where to go and I can’t have you any more involved in this.” She let out a whimper, turning away from the trickling blood.

Mr. Jarvis handed over his handkerchief. Steve took it and dragged it up the trail of blood from below her knee, before applying pressure on her re-opened wound. She gasped in pain.

“The van!” she urged through the pain.

“I will do it Ms. Carter, as long as Mr. Rogers here can assure that he will make it his priority to take care of you.”

“Fine,” she snapped waspishly.

“I’ll make sure she’s safe,” Steve promised.

Still desperate to see the mission through, Peggy made Steve limp her over with Jarvis, switching his hand over her wound with her own.

“Everything’s going to be okay Jarvis. I’m going to get you an escort,” she vowed, grabbing her phone to call Sousa directly as Steve held her tight against him. “Daniel. We’ve got the package. Jarvis is going to deliver it. I’ve got a bloody wound to get under control. I’m fine. Really. But I need you to meet Jarvis. Make sure we get this in safely.” With the phone call complete, head resting against Steve’s chest, she turned back to Jarvis. “I suppose I’ll have to present you with new handkerchiefs this Christmas.”

Mr. Jarvis smiled. “I look forward to that thoughtful gift.”

She returned the smile weakly.

“Mr. Rogers, it’s been a pleasure. I trust you to deliver her home in one piece.”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ll stay on the line with you Jarvis,” Peggy said.

Jarvis drove out of the street.

“Team two,” Peggy said into her earpiece, “I have a scene for you to clear. Please note the one deceased body is of a suspected HYDRA agent. Suicide by cyanide capsule.”

Steve arranged her carefully in the passenger seat before heading around and into the driver’s seat. She kept track of both teams, and put Jarvis on speakerphone.

“How’s it going Mr. Jarvis?”

“Splendidly, so far. Lovely there’s no traffic this time of night. Are you en route to the hospital?”

“No, no hospitals. The bleeding’s under control, I’ll be just fine.”

“Yes, you said so this morning and somehow ended up with stitches.”

Peggy gritted her teeth. “Do you see Daniel yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Peggy, I really should take you to a hospital,” Steve called out in concern.

“Make a left. We’re going to follow until Jarvis meets his escort,” she said ignoring him.

Steve sighed but followed her instructions.

“I’m surprised you can drive,” Peggy quipped trying to lighten the mood and change the subject simultaneously.

“Why? Cause I’m a Brooklyn kid? I learned in the army. Had to drive tanks, Humvees, and trucks all across the desert. Actually makes angry New York drivers not so terrifying in comparison,” Steve said. “What about you? You drive? Or just on the wrong side of the road?”

She let out an indignant “ha!” just in time for another stabbing pain. “I can drive,” she assured.

“She’s quite prone to excessive speeding,” Jarvis chimed in.

“No one asked for any defamatory commentary on my driving, thank you very much.”

Steve snorted.

“Carter?” she heard in her ear. “I’ve got Jarvis in my sights.”

“Great. Jarvis, Daniel’s almost there.”

“Ah, yes. I see him now.”

Over the speakerphone she heard commotion.

“Carter, we’re on the move,” Daniel said. Peggy sighed in relief. “Jarvis said you’re going get your leg fixed up. Make sure you get home and get some rest. These guys will keep until morning.”

“Alright Daniel. Thank you. Let me know when the package is delivered.”

Peggy clicked off her phone and slunk further into her seat, a hand covering her eyes. A moment later she yanked the wig off her head. She caught Steve glancing at her every few seconds.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just, I think I like you better with your real hair. Not that you don’t make a pretty blonde. Because you do! You’re beautiful!” He kept his eyes trained fixedly forward after his outburst.

Peggy’s face broke out into a grin. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said in a scratchy voice, only making the compliment sweeter.

Peggy checked with her teams one last time before throwing the earpiece into her purse. Minutes later, Sousa called and gave the all clear. She sighed in relief. Success.

“You sure I can’t take you to a medical professional?”

She stared at Steve with his disheveled hair and serious eyes, and shook her head. “Home, Steve. I’m exhausted.”


	8. Chapter 8

 

 

 **“When a seed sprouts, it's a violent process. The skin breaks and splits in two. Something dies and something is born. Anytime you paint a strong or violent image, you may be expressing that part of yourself that's opening in order to let the new emerge.”**  
**― Michele Cassou, _Life, Paint and Passion_**

 

 

It was surprisingly easy to get Peggy out of the car and into her building. She didn’t fight him at all.

“What about the car?” he asked, arm wrapped tightly around her waist. “Doesn’t Jarvis need it?”

“He’ll manage. Stark’s got a fleet. I’ll have him pick it up tomorrow.”

She didn’t fight him in the elevator either, although she drew the line of support at actually letting him carry her.

It was clear she was in plenty of pain, and that it was taking its toll. He worried about the extent of the damage. Still, she held in her groans, allowing only subtly pained breaths and physical flinches.

Her stubbornness amused Steve, how she literally had to be wounded in order for her to give up control. Even still Steve fought to take care of her. Inside the apartment, she steered him in the direction of the couch, only for her energy to flag in the entryway. She hissed, her fingers digging into his arms for support.

“Okay, that’s it. I’m putting you straight to bed. There’s no way you’re going to be able to move later,” he told her.

“But I have to clean my leg up.”

“You are going to do nothing but lie still. I’m going to patch you up for the last time tonight and then you’re going to sleep.”

“My hero,” she said flatly, making him crack a smile.

“I feel more like your nurse. So I’d appreciate it if you didn’t pop any more of my well-sewn stitches.”

“Cheeky bugger,” he thought he heard her mutter under her breath.

But she still refused to let him carry her, resorting to limping and hissing. He had had enough when at the door of her bedroom, she wanted him to turn her around so she could grab her bathrobe. In one smooth swoop, he picked her up, her legs easily swung over his arm.

“Steve!” she exclaimed in disapproval. “It was five more steps.”

“Well that’s five more than you need to be taking right now,” he countered. The next moment he set her down, careful not to jostle her, at the foot of her bed. “Don’t move.”

She scowled back.

He found her bathrobe hung in the bathroom and brought it right back to her, where she was still scowling.

“I’ll be right back,” he said once he handed over the silky robe. “I’m going to wash my hands and grab the kit.”

She nodded, kicking off her heels.

Steve took his time scrubbing his hands clean, and gathering all the necessary supplies. He figured she could use a moment to herself and she probably wanted to change. He made a point of knocking at the half-open door before reentering.

“I’m quite decent, nurse.”

The shimmery gold dress laid in a crumpled heap atop her shoes, and she lied back on her elbows, the red sash of her robe tied into a bow.

He set down the supplies and shrugged off the jacket, draping it neatly on the back of a nearby chair. Then he slipped the holster off.

“Should I put this on your desk for now?”

“That’s just fine.”

He nodded, safely arranging the holster and her borrowed gun before turning back to her. Her palm was ghosting over her wound, her face tight, with whatever was left of her iron will. Steve pulled the chair over and without prompting, Peggy lifted her leg into his lap.

He went right to work, unwrapping the partially torn gauze, wincing at the mess before him. In addition to the ripped stitches, her knees were scraped, early bruises visible just above and below the scratches.

“Only two stitches pulled, that’s better than I expected,” he reported.

“Really? Feels like more.”

Steve shook his head as he started to clean the wound for the second time that night. “I don’t even know how you managed to rip two stitches. Especially on your outer thigh.”

“I’m just that talented,” she said dryly before hissing as he rinsed the flesh. “Although I imagine it happened when that sociopath grabbed me after I kicked him.”

He remembered the hit, how precisely she had struck him, with a force he couldn’t believe, and the satisfactory smacking sound as the guy slumped.

“It was a really great kick,” he admitted.

“Thank you, I’m quite proud of it. Although I prefer a good jab to the jaw.”

Steve chuckled. That wasn’t hard to believe, especially when he’d seen a few of her punches. He thought Peggy in that dress was a sight to see. But Peggy in action, commanding a scene… that was a whole other level.

“How’s the pain?”

“Infuriating,” she said. “I really have had worse. But admittedly, this is no picnic in the park.”

“It’s a lot of stress on the same flesh wound in a single day.”

She grunted in agreement, just before he started with the sterilized needle.

“Not long ago, Jarvis was stitching me up just like this. Only on the other leg,” Peggy admitted. “Guess I have a matching set now.”

Steve wondered about her relationship with Stark’s butler. She seemed very comfortable with him, especially if he also had stitched Peggy up before.

“So you’ve known Jarvis a long time?”

“Actually, I’ve only known him… I guess it’s been well over a year now. He’s been a good ally. A good friend. And I suppose he reminds me a bit of home.”

“And you work together?”

“Not in any official capacity. However, where Stark goes, Jarvis is not far behind cleaning up his messes. And so he used to tag along. Actually, back then I saw him more than I did Howard.”

“Used to?”

Peggy nodded, and he swore her eyes looked a little too vulnerable for a brief moment.

“Yes, well… You see there are reasons, good reasons, I don’t allow people to try to help me,” Peggy started, her right hand digging into her bedcovers. “At the time, it was nice to have someone to shoulder some of the work. He proved he was useful and trustworthy.”

Steve nodded. “Seemed like he knew exactly how what to expect of you.”

“He’s seen a lot.” Peggy let out a breath. “I got quite used to having him along. But as you may imagine, trouble follows me. And then Jarvis ended up tangled in that trouble. Worse, it led to a threat of deportation for his wife. Of course I cleared it all up. But it was on me.”

He knew that feeling too well.

“His wife, she had a bit of a health scare at the time. And I don’t think the stress of the situation helped any. She’s a lot better now, and surprisingly don’t seem to hate me. But it’s just not the same for me. So I’ve been trying to keep my distance. They shouldn’t have to risk their safety just to help me out.”

“I don’t know Jarvis and his wife like you do, but I do know you. Jarvis seemed plenty happy to be working with you. In fact, I’d bet you can’t help having that effect on people.”

Peggy chuckled humorlessly. “Tell that to the guys who think I slept my way to my promotion.”

“Chauvinists aside.”

She cracked a smile at him.

“Real friends can’t help wanting to support each other,” he told her. “No matter the consequences.”

He thought of Bucky, and immediately tried to shake off the concern. Peggy was in front of him right now. She needed his attention.

He cleared his throat and gave her a half-smile. “Anyway, I think you might be the one following trouble.” She chuckled. “So you’re in the habit of non-doctors stitching you up?”

“It was just one other time. I’m not anti-modern medicine. But if I can deal with it myself, I’d rather avoid the fuss,” she said rolling her eyes. “Besides, your attentive bedside manner is infinity superior to the E.R.”

Steve fought a losing battle with a pleased smile.

“The key is to keep calm, no matter how hard the patient is fighting you,” he teased back.

Peggy snorted. “Speaking of keeping calm, you were pretty great back there. You’ve got really sharp tactical instincts, especially working with minimal information.” Steve glanced up from his work at the compliment. “I don’t usually allow for people to overrule my tactical plans.”

“Your plan was solid. I just happened to have some details to make it stronger. And it just so happens, the one thing I fake is Irish.”

“Well, you played it well _Sean_.”

“Not nearly as good as you _Molly_.” He sighed in disbelief, remembering the way she had stunned him coming out of that car. Peggy Carter was a woman who knew exactly what she was doing, there was no doubt about it. “Your accent… You know you could have told me. I could have blown our cover.” He almost had. It had been a close call.

She laughed. “Where’s the fun in that?”

He flicked his eyes up to hers, seeing the pure mirth in them. It made him feel a little warm.

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Only things I don’t want to do,” she remarked. “And paint. No artistic ability here.”

Steve shook his head. “You’re something else. You played them like a piano.”

He cannot believe she even bothered to shrug. She was phenomenal.

“I think,” she started, “that Sean and Molly made a pretty great team.”

Their eyes met again, and that warm feeling in him only spread.

“I think so too.”

With one final snip, Steve was finished. He gingerly wrapped a new bit of gauze over the newly stitched wound before helping her back against her pillows.

“Thank you,” she said in a soft tone.

“Any time, Peggy.”

Steve gathered up the towels and supplies, but kept glancing back at Peggy who was looking right back.

“I’ll bring you a painkiller.” She nodded but he hesitated, balling up the towels. “Maybe I could bring you something? Tea maybe?”

He hoped it wasn’t too obvious that, like a worried den mother, he didn’t want to leave her.

“Herbal would be lovely,” she replied, and he’s surprised at her lack of resistance. “And Steve? I think you could use a cup yourself.”

His stomach was tight with butterflies. He flitted around her kitchen pulling out mugs from the cabinet he remembered her storing them in and finding a box of herbal tea before he even remembered to turn on the kettle. He was flustered. She made him flustered. But he was smiling.

Steve kept his hands busy finding her pill and making sure he left behind no mess while he waited for the water to boil.

Peggy had not closed her eyes as he expected. Instead she was busily tapping away at her phone. The moment she noticed him she set it aside and shifted up against the headboard. Steve set the steaming mugs down on her nightstand. She took an eager sip while Steve grabbed pillows and cushions from around the room and began arranging them underneath her left leg. She seemed amused watching him from behind her mug. Finally content with the height and angle of her propped up leg, he pulled the chair up to sit at her side, eyes trained on her face.

“I feel like I’m being held for observation.”

“Checking for any signs of delayed shock,” he admitted.

“I’m alright so far. Now would you relax?”

“Are you sure you feel okay?”

“Well, I’m fatigued, but that’s rather expected when you’ve had a day like mine. Really Steve, relax. You’re making me feel like I’m on my deathbed.”

His back straightened. “I was just…” Worried. He was worried about her. But he hadn’t meant to be overbearing.

She hummed in understanding. “Drink your tea, Steve.” He reached for his mug. “And you? Any delayed symptoms of shock? Or anxiety?”

It had been nowhere near his list of conscious concerns.

“No. I feel pretty good. Then again, I guess that’s not saying much when I don’t have a bullet wound.”

She peered at him seriously. “I was concerned that you coming along was a tremendously unwise decision.” She continued when he didn’t know what to respond. “I was worried it might exacerbate your PTSD. Honestly it was quite reckless of me.”

He shook his head. “I told you I could handle it. Truth is, I think it’s more emotional stuff that sets me off. It’s when my head’s elsewhere.”

Peggy frowned. “You said something about hiding pain earlier. You were upset.”

Steve remembered. He had momentarily felt uncontrollably frustrated. He knew it wasn’t fair to Peggy but her shrugging off his concern had felt just as infuriating as Bucky doing the same. But what right did he have to ask so much of Peggy when they hardly knew each other. Sure, he cared for her a lot, enough to accompany her anywhere in a moment’s notice, which he realized was maybe more than he should for someone he’d known just weeks. It didn’t entitle him to her opening up to him.

“That was tactless. I’m sorry,” Peggy said, breaking what he hadn’t realized had become a long, heavy pause. “It’s none of my business. I just wanted you to know it wasn’t personal.”

Steve frowned again.

“What I mean to say,” she said breaking another silence he had neglected to fill, “is that I know I can be very stubborn. And the life I lead… it’s not always been easy or prudent for me to show weakness. In fact doing so can be an occupational hazard, especially given how hard I worked to get to where I am,” she continued. “And I do apologize. I do trust you Steve. How could I not after what you’ve done for me tonight.”

Steve searched her eyes. She trusted him. He had a feeling, given she had let him into her home, into her private life, even bared her wound to him. But to hear her say so, plainly…

“I wasn’t upset with you,” Steve started, averting his eyes to the liquid in his mug. “The thing with Buck—” He felt his throat tighten. “It’s my fault.”

Before he could stop himself, or think about what it meant that he was telling Peggy this, the words tumbled out of him.

“I was a Captain,” he continued. “My last combat mission turned into a mess, fast. Bucky, got into some trouble. Got separated from the rest of my unit. Everyone thought the worst. But I went after him. Leave no one behind. Least of all my best friend.” He swallowed hard, blinking away the tears welling up in his eyes. “I found him. But my recuse mission went south too. And all of a sudden Buck was pinned under a tank because my rescue attempt was only putting him in more danger. We were under fire. And all I knew was I needed to get him before it exploded.”

“They say I lifted the tank off him. Don’t even know how. I barely remember doing it. I took too long. His arm… He lost his arm. Had to. It was the only way to get him clear. They were shooting at us.” Steve squeezed his eyes shut. “So I pulled him clear, not knowing if he was still alive. I just hoped that if one of us would make it out, it’d be him.”

He jumped, eyes opening, when he felt something warm touch his arm. It was Peggy’s fingers, her hand stretching out to cover his.

“My team, they had come after me. Even though I told them they didn’t need to risk it. The tank exploded. Got thrown and I blacked out. I didn’t wake up until they got us back to the base. I was in and out for days until it got so dire they finally shipped me back to the States. It was too dangerous in the area to get us any real medical care. When I woke up they told me it’d been weeks.”

Even though he’d gone over most of this with his therapist, to tell another human being, someone that saw him outside of an office building, made all the memories flood back with the original weight of the moments.

“Steve,” Peggy murmured, but it was hard to see her though his blurry, wet eyes.

“It was too quiet. And no one would tell me what happened to Bucky. Turns out losing an arm gets you released from the hospital within a few days. He’d been out for a while. Left to his own devices mostly. And when he finally came by, he looked different. He was in more pain than I was. We didn’t know what to say to each other. Miraculous recovery, while Bucky no longer had a left arm. Because of me. And we both knew it.”

Peggy’s hand closed over his and squeezed.

“And now he hides his pain from me. Because how could you be open the guy who caused it? How can you trust him?”

“Steve. You saved his life.”

“Well then I gave him a life of hell.”

“Steve. He’s in pain. And from what you’ve said he’s not managing so well. But he’s alive and breathing. You brought him home. That matters.”

“Does it?”

She scooted forward and took the mug out of his hand and replaced it with her hand.

“You know it does,” she murmured.

He couldn’t imagine how much worse he would have felt if Bucky hadn’t made it at all. Another comrade to grieve.

Slowly, he nodded. Not everyone had been so lucky.

“It doesn’t change how I feel. I—I just…” He gritted his teeth.

“You feel guilty,” she finished for him.

Guilt. That was it. Guilt, every single time Bucky was doing less than living his fullest.

“Have you ever told him?” Peggy asked in a soft voice. “That you feel responsible?”

“Not in so many words. He always brushed it off in the beginning whenever I tried to talk about what happened to us. Now… we don’t talk much about anything. Not that I blame him. I should’ve been doing worse than him.”

“Steve. I cannot believe that he doesn’t know it’s been hard for you.”

He shrugged. “All my guys got out with worse injuries than I did.”

“And you feel guilty over not being as physically wounded? I can see you have a self-sacrificing streak but that’s bollocks Steve. You went back for your best friend. I have a strong suspicion you’d have done the same for any of your men, no matter the danger. So stop blaming yourself for not having a debilitating injury. You know better. Your actions don’t require some cosmic punishment. I think you’re punishing yourself enough as it is.”

He’s quite frankly dumbfounded. Did she see right through him? He raised his hands to wipe his eyes but Peggy refused to let go.

“We all have demons to deal with,” she told him. “We all have a right not to feel guilty about struggling with them. That includes you. You’re strong Steve. You take that strength and use it, whether that’s to forgive yourself, or help Bucky or what have you.”

He swallowed hard, nodding and staring down at his feet.

“My brother never made it home,” Peggy said in a quiet voice that caused Steve to jerk his head up and look at her. “Rather than just bomb the target’s house, he saw women and children eating dinner. He wanted to save their lives. They were unprepared for the ambush coming from behind. His unit lost six. My brother among them.”

“Peggy… I had no idea—”

She squeezed his hand and shook her head. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad or to prove that other people have it worse. I just… I want you to know that you’re not the only one who holds the weight of things lost. I was nowhere near involved and I still felt guilty over his death. Maybe if I’d been a better sister. Maybe if I’d joined up sooner,” she said with a sigh. “The what-ifs are hard to shrug off. The fact is, he’s no longer alive, but that doesn’t mean I’ve lost all of him. Even if it’s taken me years to come to terms with that.”

Steve dragged his chair even closer. This time he was the one leaning in and squeezing her hand.

“I’m very sorry for your loss,” he said.

A misty look returned to her eyes. He continued to lean in closer, their fingers sliding against each other, laced together atop the bedcovers. Her eyes were a beautifully rich brown, he noted not for the first time. And he already knew he hated seeing them anything but happy. He found himself leaning forward, too close, her face inches from his. His head was swimming with a strong desire to pull her against his body.

Steve cleared his throat and pulled back.

“Finish your tea,” Peggy ordered with a half-smile, their laced hands falling away from each other.

His heart was pounding, so he sipped, looking anywhere but Peggy.

“You really should put up some decorations,” he said, voice scratchy, hoping to break the tension and shift to neutral territory. “I spent all this time painting your room all nice and it looks like a sample room at Ikea where all the drawers and desks are empty.”

“I’m having you paint flowers. Isn’t that enough?”

“One wall in the hallway’s a start. But it ain’t doing nothing for your room.”

“Shall I just tack up some poster of some good-looking actor?”

“It’d be an improvement,” he insisted.

“Fine. Maybe I will.”

“Who would you put up?”

“Gene Kelly,” she said without hesitation.

“Of course you would.”

Peggy sighed a little dreamily. “Oh how he could dance…”

“You like the old classics,” he stated with a smile. It was another thing they had in common.

She hummed in agreement, her eyes closing. “However, perhaps Mr. Bogart would be more fitting on these walls.”

“True.” Steve chuckled. “Can’t say he wasn’t a good actor. There’s a reason it’s a classic.”

“Mmm,” she agreed. “Very handsome as well.” Her voice was ebbing away with drowsiness. “So any old poster would satisfy you?”

“Or some photos. Just something. A decorative vase.”

“A decorative vase?”

“Just an idea.”

“I cannot believe you agree with Howard Stark on my place needing more work.”

“I didn’t say that. I meant you adding some personal touches. You know, things that make it a home.”

She hummed but didn’t reply, eyes slipping closed again.

Steve checked his watch. Late. It was very late. He gathered up the mugs.

“I should go, let you sleep. Promise me you’ll have that leg actually looked at?”

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his. “Yes, yes, I’ll get it checked out.”

“Really?”

“Mm-hm.”

“Good,” Steve replied, standing up. He paused and looked at her serene expression. “Goodnight Peggy,” he whispered.

She was already asleep.

After tiptoeing out of her bedroom, Steve neatly piled the borrowed clothing on a chair in the living room and swapped the shoes for his work boots. He made sure the door was locked, and set off for the subway.

Steve was humming with energy. He was wide awake and excited. Despite the unexpected heavy talk, the night hadn’t drained him. In fact, he felt newly invigorated. He felt useful again. Energized.

He made it home before even realizing it. For once, his lack of attention was a result of having too much to think about, to smile over.

And so despite the late hour, he couldn’t sleep. His fingers were twitching. As soon as he shucked off his clothes in favor of his soft pajamas, Steve propped up his pillows and pulled his sketchbook off his desk. The lines immediately seemed to sketch themselves.

It started with the curve of a cheek, an arched eyebrow, the bow of a confident lip. It was sketch after sketch of brilliant, beautiful Peggy. He had a pressing need to commit the images of her tonight to memory, to paper and pencil. She was marvelous. And he’d seen her like never before.

Long after his hands cramped up, and he’d filled a half dozen pages, he still couldn’t sleep. It wasn’t because of the typical nightmares, or insomnia, or gripping coldness. It was adrenaline still coursing through him. It was the warm memory of knowing for a fact just how soft Peggy’s skin was. It was the memory of holding hands. In her bedroom of all places. It was the patter of his heartbeat knowing just how badly he had wanted to kiss her, to pull her close, to make sure she never got hurt again.

Steve’s distractions kept him company at work. He tried not to wonder what Peggy’s up to, if she’s been finishing up her mission. He tried not to call them missions, because he’s trying not to guess exactly what kind of governmental task force she really worked for since it’s none of his business. But he just couldn’t help it. Now that he’d seen her in action, he wanted to know more.

He wondered if he’d been missing the action of being on the front lines. He doesn’t exactly miss the army. Many of Bucky’s disillusioned complaints had sunk in over the months. But something about his night with Peggy was… fulfilling. He had felt like Steve Rogers again as opposed to some shell of him.

He was surprised to hear from Peggy in the early afternoon, telling him she was on her way home so he could come paint whenever he was done with work. He thought she might want to postpone to enjoy some rest and relaxation. He was further surprised when she yelled that the door was open when he went over.

Peggy was lying on the couch with her laptop, still wearing a collared blue blouse, but having changed into sweatpants, her left leg elevated on a pillow.

“Excuse my manners,” she said, “I’m just following doctor’s orders.”

“So you did go to a doctor?”

“I did promise.”

Steve grinned and rounded the couch to check on her.

“How are you feeling?”

“Sore,” she said with a groan. “And because you did such a good job on my stitches, the medic refused to switch them out for dissolvable ones, so now I have to wait until next week to have them taken out.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her put-out expression.

“I’m sorry for being careful.”

She shrugged. “I did get an ointment and a better painkiller out of it. Although a week without a nice bath. I don’t know how I’ll survive.”

“I’m sure you’ll find something to do with your time.”

Steve was organizing his supplies when he heard a long, loud yawn paired with Peggy stretching her arms up toward the ceiling.

“Long day?” Steve asked.

“They always seem to end up that way. Actually, the only reason I’m home early is that I’ve got to catch a red-eye flight to D.C. in the morning.”

“Oh. You’re going out of town?” Steve asked.

She hummed distracted by her laptop. “Some ridiculous conference full of meetings that will likely be a waste of my time.”

“How long are you going for?”

“I’ll be back sometime Tuesday, if all goes well. I wasn’t supposed to go at all, but apparently now I’m needed.”

Steve nodded feeling a little disappointed about not seeing her until the following week. He walked back over to his work, dipping his brush into the red paint.

“So how long do you think it’ll take to finish the wall?” she called over to him a little later.

He wondered if she had a time limit for him. If he’d worn out his welcome. Maybe he wasn’t working fast enough. Not that he was dragging it out. He’d been diligent, if sometimes preoccupied.

“Um… The pattern? Maybe another week? And a day for touch-ups,” he told her. “But if you need it done by a certain day…”

“Oh no. No rush. I just thought I could get Jarvis to let you in on weekdays while I’m gone. And I know you have your appointment on Wednesday, correct? But until then. Thought if you needed the work or the distraction.”

He nodded. He should. After all this was a job. And he did want to finish it for her. But to not spend any time with her. To work without her around. Oh he’d been spoiled.

“Sure thing Peggy. Whatever works best for you.”

She smiled. “I’ll let Jarvis know. Truthfully, I think he’s very interested in seeing your lovely work.”

“You told him about the flowers?”

“Of course. They’re beautiful.”

“Well, by the time you get back, this wall will look ten times better.”

She smiled. “Something to look forward to. I suppose this means I likely won’t see you until next Thursday.”

“Yeah,” he replied pathetically.

“Something else to look forward to then.”

He couldn’t help but grin at that.

 

The weekend dragged. Work had been boring. Painting at Peggy’s, which had always been a nice change of pace, was now empty without the possibility of quick-witted remarks from Peggy. And after the too quiet hours there, he came home to an empty apartment. He was effectively back to his pre-Peggy routine.

All it took was a few weeks of distance and change to magnify how truly miserable he’d been. How lonely life had been.

He thought about going out and doing something. Anything. Anything not to fall back into old habits. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of where to go. Or what to do. He wasn’t really comfortable going out to a bar, and going alone suddenly seemed worse than going with Bucky. But at least he wouldn’t be alone. The pressure of trying to figure out a plan set him down a cycle of nerves and anxiety.

He had half a mind to ask Bucky if he could tag along again on his nights out. But he’d only seen quick snatches of Bucky, mostly on his way out. It happened again on Friday night.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” Steve said.

“Yeah,” Bucky said distractedly, buttoning up his shirt, hair still wet from the shower. “How’s work?”

“Fine.”

Bucky nodded. “Cool. Well I’m on my way out. And I’m late.”

“Right.”

“See ya later.”

And so Steve watched him rush out and was left alone again. He fell onto the couch and didn’t move again for hours until he shut off all the lights and went to sleep. Or attempted sleep. He became reacquainted with the cracks in the ceiling.

By Saturday morning he had enough of the silence and walked out without a planned destination. The fresh air helped. Ten blocks later he had walked past a movie theater, and then doubled back. He bought a ticket to the movie with the next closest showtime. The theater was practically empty so he had his choice of seats. But then before he knew it the movie was over and it was just past noon. He picked another random movie to see and paid the obscene amount of money for a tub of popcorn.

 

Sunday night found Steve in a blur, trying to cook himself a semi-decent meal. Drifting in and out as his mind wandered made the task impossible. Bucky pouring himself a heaping bowl of cereal had snapped him back into focus. He hadn’t realized Bucky had been home. It looked like he was even planning on staying in.

“You know, if you don’t want to eat vegetables,” Bucky said, crunching into his cereal, “just don’t make a salad.” Steve blinked at him. “You’ve been chopping stuff up for like twenty minutes without actually having it lead anywhere.”

“Oh,” he replied hollowly. Bucky raised his eyebrow. “Why’ve you been staying out all night again?” he blurted out. “Is your arm that bad? Maybe we could find another specialist.”

“I—”

“I know you think it doesn’t help but seriously, if you went to your meetings regularly. And just tried. Just a little. I swear, it’s better than nothing. Maybe if I went with you? I mean not into the room, but I could wait in the waiting room. I just think it’s more likely to help than getting drunk every night. And I know I don’t know exactly what you’re going through. But—”

“Steve!” he said through a mouthful of cereal. “I’ve been going to my meetings.”

His mouth fell open. “You have?”

Bucky nodded, swiping milk off his face.

“But… You’re never here. You’re always out.”

“I’ve been at my ma’s and sometimes at Becca’s.”

Steve set down the carrot peeler and abandoned his pile of chopped vegetables.

“You... What? You have?”

He nodded. “Been working on some stuff. The therapist dude seemed to think not going to see my folks for months at a time was a bad choice.” Bucky shrugged. “The long train rides to Brooklyn help. Plus Becca’s pregnant so her house is dry and her husband’s nieces and nephews come over a lot because Becca’s worried off her ass that she’s not prepared enough for the baby. So they babysit, constantly. Can’t act like a fucked up asshole around kids. They don’t deserve that shit. Even when they’re more trouble than even you ever were.”

Steve let out a huge breath.

“I thought…”

Bucky shrugged again, stabbing his spoon into the bowl several times without filling it with milk or cereal.

“So are you avoiding the apartment? Because I’m here? Listen Buck. I know I put you through hell and that you wouldn’t be like this if not for me…”

Bucky made a disgruntled noise.

“I haven’t been here because it’s only been a couple weeks and I’m working on it. Which mean I’m still pissed half the time and I don’t want to be around to take it out on you. I wanted to make progress or whatever first, so you could see that I’m trying.”

He didn’t know what to say. Bucky was going to his meetings. He was going home to visit his family.

“You saying you were trying would have been enough.”

Bucky slowly nodded. “I’m trying. I still think my therapist barely knows shit, but fuck, I’m trying Steve.” He let out a weak, tentative smile.

Steve exhaled loudly. “I’m glad to hear it Buck. And if it’s not helping—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ll be complaining about that brown-noser of a therapist again so…”

Steve couldn’t help grinning. “So… You’re going to be Uncle Buck.”

Bucky laughed so abruptly a half chewed cocoa puff hit Steve in the face. It set them into loud, uncontrollable fits of laughter. In that moment he was sixteen again, laughing about nonsense with his best friend.

“So did you meet someone?” Bucky asked later.

Steve had finally managed to make himself dinner while Bucky stole carrot sticks from his plate.

“Huh?”

“You seem, more… just better lately,” he said. “Is it a girl?” Bucky asked, far more delicately put than Steve would have expected.

“What?” He tried to chuckle casually. “No. Nah. I’ve just been working a lot.”

This time it wasn’t that he hadn’t wanted to share with Bucky. But he couldn’t actually tell him about his night with Peggy. How could he justly explain how he had ended up holding her hand in her bedroom without the details he wasn’t allowed to tell anyone? And how their shared moment set off fantasies of all the other ways he could hold her hand. Like on a walk together.

In the end it ultimately didn’t matter because it wasn’t like she would actually want to do any of those things with him. He was just a guy who painted for her. And Bucky would know she was out of his league.

“The new project has been kinda fun,” he explained instead. “It’s nice to paint in color again.”

“Huh,” Bucky said, but didn’t pursue it further.

 

Things continued to look up. On Monday Peggy texted him.

_How upset would you be if I ripped my stitches out as an excuse to escape a painfully pointless meeting?_

Steve grinned from ear to ear. 

_Don’t you dare._

_You don’t understand. This is pure hell._

_What’s the meeting about?_

_Improving workplace productivity and office communication. Incidentally, I seem to be the only one not allowed to communicate my ideas, deeming this meeting useless and insulting._

_No ripping stitches Peggy. Why don’t you just punch someone in the face? You’re good at that. Besides they’re the ones that deserve punishment, not you._

He didn’t receive a response until an hour later, while he was out on an errand at the hardware store.

_Turns out bursting out in laughter is a great way to get attention from a crowd of ignorant, self-absorbed men. Thank you Steve. Have a lovely day._

He couldn’t stop smiling knowing he made her laugh.

_Happy to be of service Ms. Carter_

 

He hoped for the tiny chance that Peggy would make it home early enough Tuesday, in time for him to run into her while painting her place. It was a friendly Jarvis that greeted him instead. She didn’t turn up by the time he was finished for the night.

Steve had a particularly productive therapy session that Wednesday. He came out of it cloudy as usual, but feeling positive. He headed back to the art store like he had after his previous session, finding the smells of paper, paint, charcoal indescribably soothing. He splurged on a new set of pastels and picked up another canvas. He had an idea for it. If Peggy didn’t have time to decorate her room, he’d gladly help her. Now that he knew about Peggy’s brother, he had one more poppy he wanted to paint for her. It would serve in remembrance of him.

Instead of heading straight home, he went for a walk in Central Park and even stopped in to check on Lewis on his way home. He’d managed to get Lewis a few small gigs carrying supplies and cleaning with the construction crew in the last few weeks. He kept him company sketching by his side, listening to his woes and stories until the sun went down.

 

The anticipation of seeing Peggy lingered in his stomach all day on Thursday. It had been too long. And he was too close to finishing her wall of poppies. It was a combination he didn’t care for.

“Hello,” she greeted.

The butterflies in his stomach become even more palpable at the sight of her.

“Hi Peggy.”

She was no longer limping he was pleased to see.

“How was the rest of your trip?”

“Surprisingly, not all of it was a waste of time. There were even several actually useful moments.”

In no time at all, she had him grinning and laughing about her week, and then even Steve had shared a funny story he had heard about Stark from Jarvis. They had been enjoying each other’s company so much Steve nearly forgot he was there to paint. Peggy sung praises about finally, at long last, she had her stitches removed that morning.

“Oh, it’s good to be home,” she said with booming enthusiasm.

He had just reset his tarp and stepstool when he heard Peggy yell from the kitchen about the night calling for some wine. She walked over with two filled wine glasses.

“Gee Peggy,” he said, grinning at the glass she handed him, “if you wanted this to be a date all ya had to do was ask.”

His whole body seized up the moment it was said. Steve was living a nightmare. It was a joke, in the vein of their earlier frothy banter. He hadn’t realized it had been sitting on the tip of his tongue. His brain had been swept up in the moment and he hadn’t meant to say it. Or imply it. Or suggest it.

“Alright,” she replied with a tilt of her head, wetting her lips with wine. She was staring intently and he could feel himself increasingly shrinking, willing himself to disappear. Yet her smile never faltered.

His heart leapt into his throat. Maybe this would be the only moment he’d get. He needed to use it. But he couldn’t get his mouth to work.

“How about this weekend?” she asked.

“This weekend?”

“Yes,” she said, “for a date.”

Steve shot straight up, tongue parched and head dizzy. He could not believe his ears.

“If you’re available,” she amended.

“I’m available,” he sputtered frantically, before she had enough time to renege. “Yes. This weekend. I’m wide open.”

She beamed at him and clinked her glass against his.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some spoilers for Casablanca if you haven't seen it and would like to do so first. Which you totally should, it's very accessible for an old black and white classic, and I think Steve would have been a big fan.

 

 **“One never knows what one is going to do. One starts a painting and then it becomes something quite different.”**  
**— Pablo Picasso**

 

 

“So,” Howard said, dropping into an open chair in her office on Friday morning. Peggy kept drinking her coffee and pretending he hadn’t spoken. It was a routine of theirs. “I’m thinking we should both go blow off some steam this weekend. We can go to that new club opening tonight.”

Peggy snorted. “Friday night and you don’t have a date?”

He crossed his arms and frowned like a very put-out child. “I can get a date,” he stressed, “but Arlene might be there.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake Howard, then don’t go.”

“Not go? Do you know who I am?”

“A pain in my arse?”

“I’m sure lots of guys would love to be associated with your—”

“Finish that and I will make sure you will make no public appearance for weeks.”

Howard was lucky she was in an unusually good mood.

“It was worth a try,” he muttered under his breath. “Come on Peg, please?” He pouted. “It’ll be fun.”

“As tempting as your offers never are,” she started, “I have been invited over for dinner by Ana.”

“Oh so you’re going over to my place, I’m just not invited?” He placed his head in his hands and frowned further. “Tomorrow night? You can at least keep my company drowning my sorrows.”

“Sorry, busy then too,” she said without a hint of apology, stomach fluttering at the prospect of this actually being true.

“Come on Peg. It’s been so boring. And I’ll buy.”

She smirked and shook her head. “Why don’t you spend some time in your lab this weekend? You can work on your beloved hovercars.”

He sighed dramatically. “I would but our ineffectual government refuses to maintain upkeep on current infrastructure let only even discuss the multitude of investment opportunities that would result in my proposed plan of hoverstations,” he said with his thumb and forefinger on the bridge of his nose. “Idiots. All of them.”

He wasn’t wrong about some of the civil servants they encountered.

She patted him in a reassuring manner. “I’m sure your brilliant mind can come up with something to keep you occupied.”

He sighed again, ransacking the drawer where she kept the good chocolate. Sometimes she really felt like his mother.

But even Howard could not spoil her mood. She had very important plans on Saturday, and that made turning down Howard’s company even sweeter. She had a date with Steve to look forward to and just the memory of them making a plan the previous night made her stomach fill with butterflies.

“Tomorrow?” Steve had asked, his impatience evident as he was no longer even facing the wall he was working on.

Oh how she wanted to see him and soon. Sooner than soon. But she did make plans with Jarvis’ wife before she thought this would be a possibility. She couldn’t possibly renege. But for a moment, she considered cancelling her dinner with the Jarvises.

“I’d love to. Only,” she started, “I unfortunately promised Jarvis’ wife Ana that I’d finally join them for dinner tomorrow night.”

“I understand,” Steve said with a real smile. “That’s not unfortunate at all. I’m glad you’re going to spend time with them.”

“How about Saturday? Or Sunday? Whichever you prefer,” she said.

“Saturday,” he said firmly.

“Saturday then.”

“Dinner and a movie?” he asked, voice gone shy again.

“Sounds classic. Although you’ll have to pick the movie. I’m afraid I have absolutely no idea what’s playing.”

“Deal. How about you pick a place for dinner then? I’m not picky.”

She bit her lip as she pictured sitting across from him at some dimly lit restaurant laughing over dessert they were sharing.

“Perfect.”

And it would be. A date with Steve had been what she had wanted for weeks. And now they had a firm plan for spending time with each other outside of her apartment.

“Seven o’clock. Don’t be late,” she had told him on his way out for the night.

“Seven on the dot,” he promised with a grin.

She was excited. It was no surprise she had found herself smiling unconsciously all throughout the office.

 

Her good mood followed her to dinner. Ana as usual, greeted her with an enthusiastic hug, inquiring about how she was feeling and about her drive over. She was pure sunshine, and she was reminded once more about how nice it was to see a couple who truly loved each other. But even Jarvis was far more bubbly than usual at her finally joining them. It made her stomach flop just a little. She silently berated herself for having held them at a distance.

“So,” Ana said with a mischievous glint in her eye, “Edwin says you’ve met a man.”

Peggy shot Jarvis a glare.

“You only told me I couldn’t tell Mr. Stark,” he pointed out. “And my dear Ana can keep a secret.”

Ana grinned lovingly at her husband but shooed him out of the room with a request for drinks. She reached out for Peggy’s hands.

“Don’t you mind him. He just likes to share news of you, particularly when it’s positive. It’s been months since you’ve spent any proper time with us.”

Peggy felt another anxious jolt in her stomach. “I do apologize. It’s been hard these past few months at work. I was thrilled at the promotion, and I hadn’t expected it to be a smooth transition. And yet the bumps still caught me off guard.”

Ana nodded sympathetically. “But it’s been getting better? I hear your team has done a lot of good work.”

“There’s still some friction, particularly from the men who used to be my superiors, and now report to me.”

Ana waved her hands. “I’m sure you’ll turn their allegiances before you know it. Mr. Stark himself has mentioned he’s glad they finally put you in charge.”

Peggy smiled. Howard. As irritating as he was, he somehow still managed to be a human being at the right times.

“So…” Ana drew out with curiosity, “who’s the gentleman?”

Peggy had to bite back an all too pleased smile as her mind immediately conjured up an image of Steve. Of the prospect of their date.

“Oh, don’t you dare deny it my dear. I can see it all over your face. I hear he’s quite handsome.”

Peggy burst into laughter at the idea of Jarvis describing Steve to his wife. “Did Jarvis tell you so?”

Ana laughed too. “Yes. I have heard that he’s quite tall with fair hair, has lovely blue eyes and that you two make a very beautiful pair.”

Peggy knew she had to be blushing, so she rolled her eyes.

“I think your husband should spend more time worrying about Howard’s romantic life than mine.” But the interest and cheerful expression on Ana’s face made Peggy want to tell her more. “His name is Steve and I’ll admit he does have very nice blue eyes. And I will tell you one secret you are not allowed to tell your husband.”

Ana promised and eagerly leaned in to hear more.

“We have a date set for tomorrow night.”

Ana squeaked excitedly. Peggy doesn’t bother to hide her smile.

“Details! Details!” she pressed in an urgent whisper.

And so Peggy found herself telling the woman more until Jarvis returned with drinks and announced that dinner was ready. Ana kept her promise and never alluded to her date at dinner, however it didn’t stop the woman from bouncing excitedly in her seat anytime her eyes met Peggy’s.

Dinner was delicious, the company just as nice, so Peggy didn’t rush her way out of her friends’ home. When Howard bust in uninvited at the early-for-him hour of ten, none of them, not even Peggy, bothered to turn him away. While Jarvis went to make him a drink, Howard ran up to his own kitchen a floor up. He returned with a box of pastries, deliberating offering it first to Peggy with a winning smile.

“Sometimes Howard,” Peggy said, taking the chocolate cupcake, “you can actually pass for nearly charming.”

She didn’t punch him for squeezing her tight and brushing his slightly wet moustache against her cheek. It occurred to her that she was getting soft.

 

Peggy went into the office on Saturday morning just to check in and was grateful for a light load as her head was elsewhere. She was already daydreaming about the dress she chose for her date.

She spent long hours the previous night mulling over the choices, trying to decide which dress would be the most appropriate for a first date with Steve. She had plenty of dresses to choose from, ones she’d been hoping for an opportunity to wear. There seemed to be much more of those when Angie was in town. She made a mental note to check in on her favorite actress and insist on a visit in the near future.

But the dress—the dress was important. The weather, another sweltering, gorgeous summer day, unlikely to cool by nightfall, necessitated something strappy, the kind she wouldn’t wear to work. Her eyes scanned over a favorite red dress, tucking it away in mind for a later date. Because there would be a subsequent date. She was sure of that.

Steve was right on time and she could tell he looked frazzled and nervous. She hoped she would be able to persuade him to relax before the night was over.

He was well put together: a button-up and light colored slacks, and hair combed; but she got the distinct impression that he also spent a long time wrestling with what to wear, perhaps for less positive reasons than she had. She enjoyed the way his eyes seemed to drink her in. Clearly the strappy yet still casual summer dress has worked its intended magic.

He smiled tentatively, hands rubbing his arms.

“I just need to collect my purse and we can get going.”

She had chosen a casual place for dinner, choosing comfort and good food over romantic vibes and fancy fare. She had a feeling Steve might prefer that for the first date. And she didn’t need some romantic restaurant atmosphere to encourage her affections.

Steve quieter than usual on the walk over, but she chalked it up to nerves. He seemed to relax at the sight of the restaurant.

“You look great,” he blurted after pulling out her chair. “I mean, you always do. But that dress looks great. On you.”

She chuckled. “Thank you Steve.”

“I wasn’t sure what to wear,” he admitted. “It’s um, been a while since I’ve been on one of these and I don’t even think I have any nice clothes anymore. I’m so used to my work clothes. I was worried I’d be underdressed.”

She propped her elbow on the table and rested her head in her palm, leaning in, deliberately flicking her eyes from his muscular arms to his eyes.

“You look lovely. I’d have mentioned if you needed a tux.”

He chuckled and grew more comfortable. He asked about her night with the Jarvises and the conversation flowed easily from there. They lost track of time over dinner, having such a good time chatting and eating pie. They missed the movie Steve had decided on, with the next showing not for another two hours. Peggy told him they could pick a different film or try to do a movie another time.

She saw Steve frantically googling titles of a few of the movies left. She realized belatedly that she probably could have mentioned she hadn’t wanted to cut the date short, so instead she encouraged him picking anything until he walked to the box office to buy two tickets.

The previews were already playing so they rushed into their seats in a pretty packed theater. She tried to look at him while the previews were bright trying to gauge his humor hoping the minor setback in the plan hadn’t reengaged his nerves.

Steve was clutching the left armrest leaving Peggy the one to his right. As polite as the gesture was, she found that there was a little too much space between them. She thought Steve might feel the same despite his resolute gaze on the screen.

The audience seemed to be filled with crowds of college-aged chatty guys, who hooted and hollered along to the movie’s crass humor. Neither she nor Steve made a single noise.

She honestly could not wait for the terrible movie to end. If it wasn’t the first date and Steve hadn’t been so nervous, she would have initiated the kissing to pass the time. Unless of course Steve was enjoying the movie. She should allow him focus even if she had no interest in the movie. So she kept her eyes fixedly on the screen too, even though she kept picturing Steve’s body against hers, his hair beneath her fingers… She had to adjust herself in the seat, suddenly unable to find a comfortable position.

As soon as the credits rolled, none too soon in her opinion, they both rose, smile politely at each other and walked out of the theater. They were silent through the lobby, out the door and down the block.

Peggy’s never been one to hold back her opinion for anyone’s sake, but it was a first date, and Steve had already been nervous enough. She tried to come up with a way to be honest without causing any disappointment. Nothing came. She pursed her lips and kept quiet.

They walked another block in silence.

“Okay,” Steve said, inhaling deeply, “that was one of the worst movies of all time.”

She laughed in pure relief. “Oh thank goodness you thought so too. It was absolutely horrendous.”

Steve stopped in place, frowning while shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I’m so sorry Peggy,” he said in such a dismal tone it hurt to hear. “This is not how I wanted tonight to go.”

“It’s not your fault.”

He scrubbed a hand down his face with a heavy sigh. “I was going to be more prepared. I couldn’t find a good shirt to wear. And then I rushed out of the house without remembering to bring you flowers. And I haven’t been on a date in so long, and I’ve always been bad at this to begin with, but you were supposed to have a good time. I should have known I was going to screw up what could have been a perfect first date,” tumbled out of him in an agitated mess.

“Steve,” she said softly, reaching her hand out to touch his wrist to catch his attention. When she got it, she squeezed. “It was just a bad movie. It’s not like you made it. It doesn’t automatically make this a bad date.”

“Really?” he asked doubtfully.

“Really. Although we could have spent the time making fun of it,” she told him with a smile.

“I guess I’ve been a little nervous,” he said sheepishly. “You’re way out of my league Peggy.”

“I belong to no league,” she told him gently. "Especially if you mean those bowling leagues that you Americans are so fond of. I’ve bowled all of once, so if you’d like to start a league with me, you’ll have to be patient and practice with me,” she said dryly, hoping to relieve any of his perceived inadequacies.

She counted it as a victory when he chuckled and met her eyes.

She squeezed his arm gently again. “The company has been more than lovely, Steve. And you should know I’m already quite fond of you.”

He brightened at her words. She couldn’t help but be happy to be the source of his smile.

“So can I still walk you home?”

“Oh, I insist that you do.”

He grinned. They walked close together, trashing the bad movie. They spent the walk repeating the terrible lines of dialogue and laughing at each other’s reenactments. As of course, even a bad movie could turn into a cheerful experience with the right attitude and the right partner.

“I have to admit, I do prefer the old classic Hollywood movies. Strong actors and strong stories as opposed to the stuff they crank out these days,” she told him.

“Like Humphrey Bogart and Gene Kelly,” he teased.

“There is a reason Casablanca is classic. And Gene Kelly… well nobody dances quite like him anymore. My oh my, a man who can dance is a sight to see.”

“I’ve never really danced before,” Steve told her.

“Never? You must have!”

He shook his head. “I don’t think the sixth grade Sweetheart Dance where Jessica Daniels was dared to slow-dance with me counts,” he told her in a light tone although he avoided her eyes, missing the sympathetic gaze she was giving him.

“Well we’ll have to change that, won’t we,” Peggy stated matter-of-factly.

“So you might still want to go on another date?” he asked shyly.

“Well, I rather think this one doesn’t have to be over just yet. However, if you’d like to plan ahead, then yes. I’d very much like to see you again.”

His all too happy smile really did numbers on her.

“I’d really like that too Peggy,” he said. “Although, you should probably know that I stepped on Jessica’s foot twice and she never looked at me again.”

Oh poor, poor, shy and nervous young Steve.

“I appreciate the warning but I’m not concerned about your lack of experience. Perhaps you just needed the right teacher.”

“And partner.”

Her heart fluttered girlishly. “Yes, the right partner.

They continued to walk back towards her apartment, Steve ever the gentleman, though their swinging arms brushed contentedly against one another every so often. The closer they got to her block the more an idea brewed in Peggy’s head.

“It’s still early,” Peggy said, gauging his interest. When Steve nodded she continued. “I thought perhaps we could watch something here, a movie guaranteed to please.”

He readily accepted with the lovely smile she loved.

Peggy turned into the kitchen to dig for snacks while Steve worked on getting the enormous seventy inch screen that Howard insisted upon all set up. She found a bag of popcorn, her appetite now returned, and a surprisingly still full tub of ice cream.

They both easily come to the agreement to choose Casablanca.

“I think it’s about time we actually watched it together since it keeps coming up,” Steve had pointed out.

They settled on her couch, much closer than in the dark movie theater where they had an armrest between them. Peggy could tell that Steve, here in the privacy of her apartment where they had spent so many moments together already, was comfortable. It made sense. It was the place where they met and opened up to each other. She was glad and girlishly excited once more.

They stuck spoons into the ice cream and passed the tub back and forth. It felt like they had been doing this for more than just a single night. It still surprised her just how easy it was to be with him, how quickly her feelings for him bubbled up and developed into something very real before she ever really considered it herself.

There was no question about her romantic feelings for him. It had simply come to her, a given, no forced blind dates or well-meaning “you should give him a chance” speeches from friends required. And in that way she knew there was something there.

Her loft had been a place of solitude outside of her high-stress job. She loved the peace and privacy. But here she was wanting Steve to spend more time in it.

Peggy really did love the film, always having found the story and dialogue riveting, and it helped that Bogart made Rick utterly charming. But she ignored Mr. Bogart in favor of Steve. Watching him watch the movie was even more satisfying, his own face so expressive, eyes lighting up at all the famous lines.

He was so focused he didn’t necessarily notice her eyeing him, she was relatively sure. His face was so kind, and his neatly combed hair was just inviting her to run her hands through it. He was entirely too handsome and the longer she studied him, the more she felt her heart pound against her ribcage.

It was the perfect moment, the perfect atmosphere. And so Peggy leaned over and pressed her lips to his. He was still a moment, soft and warm, and then she felt his lips move. It’s simple and special. She pulled back with a smile. His jaw fell open and he was staring wide-eyed at her. She didn’t blame him not when she was pretty speechless herself, her heart still racing. The fact that she could see just how affected he was by a kiss only thrilled her further.

She pressed the whole side of her body against his and she could feel him scoot closer, still inhaling deeply. She’s warm and pleased as she touched her head to his shoulder and returned her attention to the screen.

Steve shifted next to her, until he finally pulled his arm over the top of the couch, his hand coming to rest against her shoulder. She sighed as his fingertips brushed bare skin, and slowly moved down her arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. She had a feeling he was no longer really paying attention to the film either. They both were obviously more interested in playing with each other’s fingers when Steve’s wandering hand had touched her fingers. She slotted hers against his until their palms kissed. She couldn’t hide her smile when Steve squeezed her hand possessively.

“‘We’ll always have Paris,’” Steve said along with Rick.

The movie ended and before Steve was allowed to think about getting up, Peggy kept hold of his hand. He smiled and neither moved. Instead they immediately dived into a lively discussion.

“I really didn’t expect that ending the first time I saw this,” Peggy admitted. “I know everyone always talks about the romance of this movie, but I thought for sure he was going to betray Laszlo.”

Steve nodded enthusiastically. “I thought so too. It probably doesn’t help that I wasn’t so impressed with Rick in the beginning.”

“I agree. But I think that’s one of the great things about the movie. The characters are real and complex, and of course the war affected everyone’s situation and choices. And you get to see Rick choose what kind of person he really wants to be and make the difficult decision for the greater good.”

“Yeah. I like that he and both Laszlo in the end decide it means more to do the right thing, even though it’s more dangerous, to continue to fight the Nazis.”

“You know, I think there’s a little Rick in you too Steve. The noble parts.”

Steve chuckled. “Well, I don’t think I could ever look as good as he does in a white suit and the hats.”

“Oh I don’t know, I think you could pull of forties fashion,” Peggy said, imagining him in Rick’s clothes. “All those perfectly tailored looks. I wish we could bring some of that back.”

“There’s definitely something to the hats. It makes everyone look very important. And very dapper.”

“Debonair to be sure. Oh Bogart in that white jacket… Classic,” she said with a little dreamy sigh. “Hey, do you think they wanted to name the paint after his suit but thought that reference too obscure so they just stuck with Casablanca?”

Steve laughed. “I think the guys who named it never even watched it and that’s why it’s spelled as two words instead of one.”

Peggy laughed back. “That’s a shame, but highly probable.”

The conversation never seemed to lull, and they continued talking, turning the TV to a random channel with the volume low just to keep them company. And the feel of Steve’s arm around her was just as appealing.

“We don’t know much about Ilsa’s marriage. I can’t imagine it was easy for her.”

“I do wonder about the danger Laszlo put Ilsa in, but I can understand his commitment. I mean, I’d like to think if I was in his shoes I’d do anything I could to keep the fight alive,” Steve said. “Not that there would have been any girl that interested in me to cause conflicting priorities.”

A smile played on Peggy’s lips. “And if there were? A woman who saw all of you and cared about it all?” She purposefully kept her eyes locked on his.

Slowly, he started to nod, swallowing hard. “I think that if she knew me, she’d understand why I’d need to fight. Maybe she would be right there at my side. But I’d make sure she knew that despite there being more to the world than just us, that she was everything to me. That I’d do anything to try to save the world for her.”

She could swear that those words, those genuine promises were directed not at some hypothetical woman, but at her.

“Because you’re a good man, Steve.”

Steve flicked his eyes down, shrugging his shoulders modestly. Peggy leaned in to kiss him again, quick and chaste lips, taking Steve by surprise once more. Their fingers curled even tighter together.

After a long while, Peggy hummed thoughtful. “Do you suppose they were really in love? Rick and Ilsa?”

“They both say they were.”

“But after so short a time. Could they really fall in love with someone they hardly knew anything about?”

“I didn’t used to think so, that it is a movie,” Steve said. “But now… that I’m older that is, I think I could see how easily you could just know that someone’s going to be really special to you.”

Peggy met his eyes and held them. “I know what you mean.”

Steve’s brushing fingers paused their trail on her arm. “And Rick’s sacrifice,” he said in a serious tone after a few moments, “I think what he did was a true act of love.”

“Yes I think so too,” she replied, her stomach full of irrepressible flutters.

 

Much later, when she walked him to the door and they finally were saying goodnight, he turned and stepped into her. She liked the feel of his tall figure stooping against her. He cupped her cheek and kissed her fervently. It knocked the breath out of her. Those soft lips paired with the delicate touch of his fingertips set her body aflame.

She lost sense of herself and when their mouth finally disengaged she was downright dizzy.

“Sleep well Peggy,” Steve said full of energy.

She wasn’t sure she’d sleep at all.


	10. Chapter 10

 

  
**“Every plain wall deserves a piece of work, so why not cover it with a smile?”**  
**― Shawn Lukas**

 

 

Steve couldn’t sleep. Again. The heatwave didn’t seem to be helping. He had his arms behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He stood and peeled his white shirt off his sweaty chest. He moved toward the window hoping for a hint of a breeze. It was dead still. The city sweltered on below. It was only when he caught a glimpse of himself in the window that he remembered that he was still grinning. Grinning so hard his face was becoming stiff.

Steve had been kissed. Kissed. In the middle of Casablanca. On Peggy’s couch. By Peggy. That was the important part. Essential. And he’d kissed her back.

With one final look at his reflection, he settled back into bed. But what was the point of sleeping? This was better than a dream.

Monday morning, still floating on a cloud, it dawned on him that he was supposed to work on Peggy’s wall. In the post-first-date bliss he had forgotten. He wondered if it would be weird to work on her place now that there was definitely something between them. Not that he had all that much left to do. He could maybe even knock it out that day. But would he be allowed to kiss her? Maybe on the cheek would be appropriate. Maybe they could finalize that second date they had mentioned.

In the end he decided he’d wait to broach the subject of a second date until his work was complete.

He got to hug her for the first time. He has been unfolding his tarp when she approached him, not stopping until her arms were pulled around him. He squeezed her back.

“And I thought it might be weird to come back to work.”

She shrugged. “Perhaps we should have discussed it.”

“Yeah. Listen, Peggy, I don’t want you to pay me.”

“Absolutely not,” she refused. “Of course I’m paying you.”

“It doesn’t feel right anymore. And anyway, I don’t mind. I like painting for you. I’d do more just because you asked.” And it was true.

“Steve,” she said sweeping her hand gesturing at his art, “I am going to pay you to finish this beautiful art.”

“Well… then if that’s your last say on that—”

“It is.”

“—then it’s probably good that I can finish this today.”

“So fast?”

“Just some touch-ups,” he said nodding.

“Well then perhaps tomorrow you could come pick up your check.”

“Maybe I could come pick you up at the same time.”

His heart thudded as her lips split into a smile.

“Alright,” she said. “Maybe I was hoping you would.”

He grinned. “Then I should probably get to work.”

“I wouldn’t want to distract you,” she said but her smile, he was sure, meant the opposite.

_Focus. Finish. Plenty of time later to be distracted._

Once she was out of visible sight, he did focus. He filled in finishing details, constantly stepping back to survey the wall for sparse spots. Steve fixed a few leaves and added a crimson petal or two. The once flat red poppies were now richly detailed, layer on layer of paint went into shaping them, of filling them out, and it gave the work a new depth. It made the loft feel a touch more feminine and delicate, and yet the bold, rich reds were powerful colors. He thought it reflected Peggy well.

He was about done when he stepped as far back as he could for one more study, but he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. At his angle he had a straight view into the kitchen. At the very end of her kitchen island, he found Peggy perched, snacking and staring in his direction. Their eyes met and Peggy gave him with a guilty grin.

Steve straightened up, set down his brushes and walked toward her.

“How long have you been doing that?” he asked, as she continued to smile sheepishly.

“Today? Oh ten minutes or so,” Peggy said setting down the cheese and strawberry plate she had been working on. “Otherwise, ever since I first saw you paint.”

The nonchalant admission made his stomach flutter. He wondered if he should be less surprised since they had been on a date. But still all those time he thought she had glanced his way… She had really been looking at him.

It wasn’t until she chuckled that he snapped back to reality.

“Oh? You’ve been watching have you?”

She shrugged. “There’s something very appealing about watching you so focused. Soothing even.”

“It is very soothing. I think that’s why I like it so much. Keeps my hands busy and my head calm.”

“And it shows off your magnificent arms,” she said hopping off the counter.

“Oh? I didn’t… uh…”

“So… My poppies are all finished?”

“Yeah.” Steve cleared his throat. “All done.”

“Good. Because you’ve got red paint on your face.”

He brushed a hand over his cheek. “Oh yeah, I thought I might have got myself.”

Peggy brought a hand to his face, her thumb very gently moving horizontally across his cheek, then once more just above his brow. Her fingers curled around his cheek and his eyes shut of their own volition.

“One more,” she whispered. He opened his eyes.

Peggy stood on tip-toe, hand still cupping his cheek, tilting his face down. It was the same warm, velvet sensation he’d been dreaming about since Saturday night. Their mouths worked against each other, growing deeper with each second, hands curled around each other’s neck, pulling each other closer. It took all his energy to not spontaneously combust. He let out a satisfied sigh when they broke for air.

 

 

Steve felt great after work. He had plenty of time to go home and change into a blue polo and to not forget to pack up the canvas he had painted for Peggy. There was no concrete plan for their second date other than an agreement about dinner but he wasn’t worried. Not anymore. Not when the plan came together over languid kissing.

It was the first time he headed to Peggy’s after work in something other than work boots and paint-streaked clothing. Peggy greeted him in another summer dress. This time he was the one to initiate the hug. How had he gone so long without fully appreciating the wonders of a hug?

“This time I didn’t forget to bring you a flower,” he said grinning, before putting the canvas in her hands.

He watched her unwrap it, watching as her eyes changed at the sight of the detailed oil painting of a poppy.

“It’s for your bedroom. Since you need help decorating,” he teased. He continued to watch her serious study. “I thought it might be a nice way to honor your brother,” he continued in a lower voice. “One more poppy to tie it all together.”

He felt her lips on him before he managed to sense her launching at him. His lips parted automatically with a steady hand at her back. It was tricky to keep it up with the canvas poking into both of them.

“Thank you,” she breathed. “Steve really… This is… This is very special.”

“You’re welcome,” he said. “Figured it was easier than finding poppies at a flower stand.”

She laughed. “This will definitely last longer. Will you help me put it up?”

“Of course.” He dug into the bag for something, displaying it proudly for Peggy. “Command Strips. Won’t ruin your beautiful paint job.”

Peggy laughed. “Always so prepared.”

“Key to success,” he tossed easily back.

She took his hand and led him to her room. Once the painting was hung, Peggy took his hand again.

“I’m not sure I’ve ever met anyone nearly as thoughtful as you, Steve.”

“I just thought you’d like it,” he explained with a shrug.

Peggy lifted her hands to his neck. “Oh I do.”

He received another proper open-mouthed kiss he felt all the way down to his toes. She was giving him her dazzling smile. It was contagious and he lifted their linked hands to his mouth, kissing the back of her hand.

“Hungry?” he asked a while.

“Starved.”

Her hand felt warm and solid. Steve was fairly sure that holding her hand was something he wanted to continue for a very long time: forever if the world allowed him that, if that would be okay with Peggy.

 

 

Steve came home from another enjoyable day with Peggy. They took a walk, hand in hand, through Central Park, stopping to sit on a park bench just to soak up the sun and spending hours talking. Their conversations never seemed to lag. She was whip-smart, confident on her opinions, but never failing to ask questions about the things he enjoyed so he never felt ignored or belittled. It only made him want to tell her more. Coming from a kid who had always gotten tongue-tied around girls, this was huge for Steve. With Peggy, it was effortless.

They had spent longer than planned kissing good night. Peggy had said several times that she needed to get to bed, only to press her lips to his one more time. And who was he to deny her what she wanted? He was helpless against the taste of her lips, powerless under her hands.

He was in a very good mood when he got home. He was buzzing. Bucky had just finished showering and Steve knew he had to share his news.

“Hey, there’s Chinese and groceries in the fridge,” Bucky called out when he spotted Steve in the hall, still rubbing a towel over her wet hair.

“There’s this girl…” Steve blurted out excitedly before Bucky went into his room.

Bucky snorted. “Well no shit,” he said. “You’re a shitty liar. But go on.”

Steve couldn’t stop smiling.

“Her name’s Peggy.”

“Were you just on a date with her?”

“Yeah. We took a long walk in Central Park.”

“Classic,” Bucky said with an approving chuckle. “First date? Second?”

“Fourth,” Steve admitted a little sheepishly.

“Whoa. Four dates?”

“In about a week and a half.”

“No shit? And I’m only hearing about this now?”

“Well you told me a second date can mean a girl is just being nice or still deciding. A third is promising. But if you go on a fourth—”

“Then she’s seriously into you,” Bucky finished with a knowing nod. He whistled. “So four dates, huh?”

Steve grinned. “Yeah.”

Bucky clapped his right hand onto Steve’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you punk. How’d you meet her?”

Steve scratched the back of his neck. “At my last job… It was her apartment.”

Bucky roared in laughter. “You picked up a chick while on the clock? You? Nice work!”

“It wasn’t like that.” He knew he was blushing.

“This the girl you painted flowers for?”

Steve nodded.

“You got a picture?”

“Uh,” Steve considered, pursing his lips, “no. But I drew her!”

He rushed into to his room scouring for the right sketchbook. He flipped through it for a good sketch of Peggy, one worth showing Bucky. He didn’t exactly want to admit how many times he had drawn her when he was already embarrassed about admitting he’d drawn her at all.

“Shuddup,” Bucky said with surprise. “You’re dating a girl that looks like this?”

Steve flushed. “I’m not making her up.”

Bucky snorted, unruffled. “I didn’t say you were. She’s just… Really beautiful. You really scored.”

“She’s…” Steve shook his head in his own disbelief. “She’s amazing.”

“Never seen you so worked up over a girl.” Bucky grinned, handing back his sketchbook.  
“She must really be something.” Bucky smirked. “Lucky your artistic style ain’t no Picasso.  
Otherwise, not just would I have thought you made her up, but we’d have to take you in for a check-up on that big head of yours.”

Steve snagged the towel Buck had around his neck and threw it over his face.

 

 

“Hey,” Bucky called out one evening a few days later. “Do you already have plans with your girl for Friday?”

“Not yet. Why?”

“Ma and Becca are throwing some kind of family dinner party. They wanted you to come.”

“Yeah?”

Bucky nodded. “It’s at six-thirty. I’m gonna take the train around six if you wanna ride with me.”

“Sounds good. Does your ma need us to pick anything up?”

Bucky shrugged. “Probably not. You know how thorough she is when she gets cooking. But I’ll ask Becca.”

Steve found it was easy to get ready for the dinner now that he’d been regularly seeing Peggy for three weeks. Picking an outfit didn’t take him long deliberations, and he knew from Peggy a great bakery to pick up a box of pastries for Mrs. Barnes.

He hadn’t realized how much his self-imposed confinement to his apartment had heighted his anxieties. Occasionally something would make him jump or lose his train of thought or focus, but Peggy never seemed disappointed. She would simply reach out for his hand and sit him down on the nearest bench or stoop. She’d patiently wait for him to tell her when he was ready to continue or if he preferred to go home.

Since his dates with Peggy, he started to reengage with the bustle of the city: street markets, summer events in the parks, even visits to his favorite museums. As it turned out, despite her almost two years in New York, she had hardly any time to explore things the city had to offer. She preferred things off the beaten track but still, there were massive gaps in the sights he thought she ought to have seen by now.

With her eagerness they spent a whole a whole Saturday in Brooklyn, starting in Prospect Park where they lounged in the Japanese Garden, Peggy tilting her head up to the pale blue cloudless sky while Steve sketched—mostly flowers but also rough outlines of her elegant profile. After a visit to the zoo, they even went to visit two of the apartments he grew up in with his mother as times got tough. He hadn’t been back there in ages, but with Peggy holding his hand it no longer seemed so daunting.

The blue button-up Steve decided on for dinner was a new one. He purchased it after he realized on date four that he’d run out of combinations of pants to shirts; he’d rotated his chinos and black dress pants with the two decent shirts he owned. Peggy had never commented nor made a sour face—he’d been given plenty of those from the girls Buck had set him up with over the years—but it had felt like time he took some effort to have more than t-shirts.

The second they entered the Barnes’ family home, Steve had been pulled into hugs and strong gripped handshakes. He hadn’t been back in years, but the familiar house where he’d spent countless hours still looked and smelled the same. All three of Bucky’s younger sisters had given him not only hugs but kisses on the cheek, worriedly asking after his health in perfect intonation of their mother. They were pushed away as Mrs. Barnes let her son go, and rounded on Steve with a squeezing hug and some good-natured motherly fussing. She patted his cheek when he handed her the white bakery box.

Before long the mess of friends and relatives were squeezed around the dining table; two fold out tables were attached to each end to accommodate everyone. Mrs. Barnes made a call for saying grace, only for Buck’s youngest sister to cry out that her girlfriend was Jewish.

“Yes dear, we all know. You remind us every time, and every time Jessi adds a nice little prayer in Hebrew to our interfaith grace,” Mrs. Barnes scolded without batting an eye. Bucky sniggered while his youngest sister rolled her eyes as if she was still personally very offended and Jessi herself laughed fully at ease.

The second Mrs. Barnes delivered the final Amen, clasped hands fell apart to fight for the rolls, and Bucky made an announcement.

“Steve’s got a girlfriend,” he said loudly without preamble.

Steve immediately turned bright red while they girls gasped excitedly, the kids ignored the interruption, and the men shouted praises. The oohs and aahs only made Steve shrink into his seat.

“I… She’s…” he remarked feebly.

Buck said girlfriend. Sure he wanted Peggy to be his girlfriend. But was she that already? They hadn’t discussed it. Maybe it was too soon for that kind of label? He wasn’t too sure.

“She’s British and Steve painted her all these flowers to win her affection,” Bucky continued.

More ooh’s chorused all around him.

“That’s not why I—”

“Do you have a picture?” Becca asked excitedly.

“Does he? You should see his lock screen,” Bucky said.

That, Steve refused to be embarrassed over. He would proudly display the picture of the girl who might just become his girlfriend to anyone who asked. He’d taken it during their visit to the Botanic Gardens. The summer sunshine had filtered across her face, across her cheeks, emphasizing her dimples. Her loose wavy hair had been thrown over one shoulder, and then, just as he thought he’d been sneaky enough to capture her profile, she had looked on in amusement directly at his phone.

His phone ended up passed around the table and he wasn’t given it back until Mrs. Barnes retrieved her reading glasses and had a good long study. When it returned to his hand, he also had a long glance, feeling a flutter in his stomach as they screen faded to black.

Despite his fairly talkative demeanor at dinner, Bucky was silent on the train ride into Manhattan. He was curious about how many other dinners Buck’s been to but Bucky stared right out the window with a serious expression. Steve understood that bit. He understood the need for quiet and peace, for the contemplative solitude of train rides.

Steve pulled out his pocket sketchbook and vaguely scratched lines on the blank page. Before he realized it, he was drawing images from the dinner table: Uncle Jimmy’s grizzly beard tinged with white from the massive amount of whipped cream he put on his pie; Becca and Mrs. Barnes having a private moment in the hall, both their hands on Becca’s stomach; little second cousin Nate hanging off Bucky’s prosthetic howling with laughter.

He had almost finished that one, about to flip to a new page when Bucky’s hand darted out over the sketch. He pulled the sketchbook closer for a better look. Surprisingly, instead of being upset, Bucky laughed.

“Little twerp,” he said with affection. “Thinks he’s going to be Spiderman one day. He said I could be his robot sidekick.”

Steve snorted.

“Got any more?” Bucky asked.

He let Bucky peruse the rest of his sketchbook.

“Hey does your girlfriend know you used to be a runt?”

Bucky hadn’t been teasing. After all, that was how they met, with poor, malnourished, sickly Steve Rogers refusing to back down from a bully stealing someone else’s lunch money. He had known exactly what it felt like to go through the day hungry, and he refused to let some jerk steal it so he could buy a second brownie in the cafeteria. He had gotten punched in the nose for his valiance, almost a black eye until Bucky stepped in and punched the bully back.

“She knows I haven’t always had muscles.”

Bucky sniggered. He knew Steve had always been a little touchy about his past size, especially in regards to girls.

“Girls don’t like guys they can easily step on,” Steve had often complained in their youth.

“You should draw her a picture of you before the army stretched you out. I think she’d get a kick out of seeing it,” Bucky said while he continued flipping through the sketchbook.

Steve frowned and ignored him.

 

 

Peggy made dinner reservations. It was the first time they planned a date anywhere remotely fancy, although Peggy assured him there was no need for him to buy anything new. Regardless, from the pictures he looked up of the restaurant, it looked elegant, with dim mood lighting.

Peggy called him suggesting she would pick him up for a change since the restaurant was much closer to Steve’s place. For some inexplicable reason, that had made his body seize up.

“I—uh. No that’s okay. I’ll pick you up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s right on my way from work. It makes much more sense for us not to backtrack.”

“Are you sure? Cause I could just meet you there.”

“Of course. You’re always coming to me. I’d say it’s only fair it be my turn.”

Still, Steve hesitated and his heart was suddenly pounding unpleasantly in his ears.

“Steve?” Peggy prompted gently when he hadn’t said anything. “Is there some reason why you don’t want me to pick you up?”

Steve looked around his basic, worn two bedroom apartment. There were cracks in the walls, the floors creaked, the kitchen barely fit him and Bucky at the same time. The couch they had scavenged from someone else dumping it when they were moving out. The hallway always seemed to have a funky smell. There were no flourishes of color, or pristine hardwood floors or matching furniture. It was nowhere even remotely near the pleasant, comfortable place that her loft was.

“I… My place is a piece of crap. Worse. Especially compared to yours,” he told her, voice teetering on anxious.

He’s embarrassed and for the first time he had doubts about this thing with Peggy. He’s just a nobody, with emotional scars and a run-down apartment.

“Steve,” she started, voice gentle and firm, “I’m not coming over you judge your place. I’m coming to pick you up so I can take you to dinner.”

There’s something in the way she said it that sparks something pleasant in his stomach, something in her tone that silenced the doubts and made him imagine her kiss, her voice whispering his name into his ear in person.

“But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. If you’d rather meet at the restaurant that’s okay too.”

But now that the scenario was falling out of reach, he wanted it. He wanted to be picked up by this beautiful, kind woman. He wanted to open the door to see her standing there excited to see him. He wanted to have the extra time, holding her hand, admiring her outfit on the way to dinner.

“Okay,” he told her, “pick me up.”

“Are you certain Steve? Because—”

“I’m sure.”

“Alright. But if you change your mind… I won’t be upset.”

That’s what made him certain. Peggy had never pushed, never taken his hesitations lightly. She always heard him out and only ever seemed to assure him of his interest.

He wanted to be her boyfriend. Boyfriends brought girls home, even if that meant to a crappy apartment. Boyfriends shared their lives and opened up to their girlfriends if they wanted to be in a real relationship. And he so desperately wanted that. He so very much wanted Peggy to stay in his life.

“Hey, so Peggy’s going to meet me here before our date.” Steve told Bucky the day before. “I don’t know if you were going to be around or not but just wanted to give you a heads up. You could meet her.”

Bucky nodded. “Where are you guys going on your date?”

“Dinner at some Italian place she likes. Not sure about afterwards.”

“Oh,” he replied. “You want me to clear out? Give you the apartment for the night?”

“No!” Steve said, cheeked flushed. “I mean, that’s not what I meant. It’s not necessary.”

“So you haven’t—”

“She has early mornings. And she had to work tomorrow so…” Steve said before Bucky could continue.

Bucky raised his eyebrow in amusement. “Right.”

Steve crossed his arms defensively. “We’re taking it slow. And I’m good with that. I need it. I like her a lot and she’s not even my girlfriend yet.”

“What’s it been?” Bucky shrugged. “Eight dates? Seems pretty girlfriendy to me.”

“Nine. It’ll be nine.”

“Really? Nine dates and you haven’t at all?”

Steve glared at him. “Don’t you dare tell me you don’t need a girl to be your girlfriend to sleep with her.”

“Well...”

“Buck!”

“I didn’t say it. Although, I mean, objectively, that’s still true.”

“Listen. I’m happy. She makes me really happy. So could you stop looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m some dumb sucker.”

“I wasn’t…” Bucky frowned. "I was just messing with you. Just talking shit. She makes you happy. That’s good enough for me.”

Slowly, Steve gave him a half-smile. “Thanks.”

“But the kissing’s real good, huh?”

The corners of his mouth turned up unconsciously.

“Yeah, it’s real good.”

Bucky smirked.

 

 

Steve was dressed and ready to go when Peggy texted saying she was ten minutes away.  
Despite logic calming him down, and coming to the conclusion that Peggy seeing his apartment was no big deal, he got suddenly very nervous about it. It didn’t matter if she hated it, he hated the place himself. That’s what he told himself when he walked the three flights down to let her in because the buzzer was perpetually busted.

Peggy looked stunning in a snug black dress. She smiled brightly at him and immediately kissed him on the cheek before urging him up the stairs. The second they were through the front door though, Steve felt that uncontrollable pang of shame.

“Can I have the grand tour?” she asked with an unwavering smile.

Steve was glad to see their meager living room looking clean. The night before, when he’d seen Steve scrambling to tidy the place up, instead of laughing, he chucked all the garbage and take-out containers into the trash. He led her down the hallway and pointed out Bucky’s room and the bathroom. Outside the third door, she arched an eyebrow and silently Steve opened his bedroom door.

Peggy stepped in and Steve tried to view his room with an outsider’s perspective. The blank walls had the occasional crack, even more of them on the ceiling. Some spots were peeling, and the rest had a crusty yellowness. It felt… grim. Granted, his bed and desk were neat and tidy. Still, the longer he looked around his humble four corners, the heavier he felt.

“I know it’s pretty depressing.”

Peggy turned over her shoulder and he found himself frowning. She stopped in her perusal and stepped closer to him.

“It’s not much. Just a crappy apartment,” he found himself continuing inanely.

“Steve you must know I don’t care what your place looks like.”

“But most of my furniture is plastic. And none of it even matches. Not like your place.”

“Believe it or not, I don’t quite share the tastes of billionaire Howard Stark when it comes to decorating. However, as it’s fully functional, and I’m very lucky to have it, it works. Besides, I cannot be bothered to spend time changing it around.” She took his hand. “Anyway, this is New York. Rent is ridiculous. This is more than tolerable. The place I was renting before Howard gave me the loft was, in total size, smaller than your bedroom. So trust me, when I understand what one must put up with in this city.”

He met her eyes feeling a little better. He squeezed her hand and smiled.

But then Peggy huffed. “But after all that crap you gave me over my lack of bedroom décor…” She clicked her tongue but she was smiling. “Shame on you Steven.”

She wandered around, stopping in front of his desk. She picked something up. He stepped closer to see what caught her eye. He froze too at the sight of the four-by-six photo in her hand.

It was a photo of a squinty Steve in his uniform and dog tags at boot camp. He closed his eyes, feeling his cheeks heat up. Bucky must have dug it up and put it there. He felt worse about the photo than he had about the stupid apartment.

That photo, that skinny kid in it, that was his identity. That was how Steve saw himself. It’s the core of him and he knew perfectly well that he wasn’t much to look at. And he was scared of what Peggy would see.

“Bucky must have put this here as a joke,” he said awkwardly, not knowing what to say or do.

“This is you when you first joined the military?”

“I know it’s not much to look at…”

Peggy never looked away from the embarrassing photo. He couldn’t imagine why she was still interested in it. Finally, she lifted her gaze looking up at him, eyes oddly soft.

“I love this photo.”

He eyed her skeptically.

“You should see the after photo,” he said lightly.

Her gaze grew in its intensity, and his cheeks felt hot for an altogether different reason.

“I don’t need to see the after photo,” she replied, continuing to look him over. He felt a flutter at her look, and then another when she turned back to the photograph. “I wish I had known you then.”

He gulped, mouth suddenly dry as he thought back to what the hell his skinny, young self would have done if he met Peggy Carter. He would have embarrassed himself for sure, wheezing and tripping at her feet no doubt.

“At least I know you now,” she murmured, inching forward to kiss him.

He lost himself to her lips, to the fervent need to keep the connection, to feel her appreciative kiss. She kissed him like kissing him was exactly what she wanted most. And so he worked hard to make sure he kissed her back in just the way she deserved.

He was thoroughly distracted, lips swollen and he had forgotten all about their reservations. Peggy giggled and gave him a moment while she went to freshen up in his bathroom. He needed more than a moment. With deep breaths, he fixed his disheveled hair in the mirror. Peggy reappeared with a fresh, bold red coat of lipstick, and it was very hard not to imagine kissing it off of her.

Steve had never been much for public displays of affection, content to offering his arm or holding hands. Peggy shared that preference. But he was mighty glad the restaurant was dimly lit. And as they sat at their cozy round table, Steve slipped his hand into Peggy’s only for her to grin and run her fingertips across his forearm.

Despite their distractions, they were early for their reservation. As their table wasn’t ready, they headed back out into the fresh air. Outside, staring in Peggy’s brown eyes he found the courage to clear something up that had been nagging him.

“Buck called you my girlfriend at his family dinner,” he started making Peggy eye him quizzically. He powered through. “I know it’s only been a few weeks—And we haven’t exactly talked about—Not that it’s important exactly—”

“Steve?”

“What I mean is, would you maybe be alright with me being your boyfriend? Because I’d really like that.”

Peggy lifted a hand to cup his cheek, and kissed him, in full view of the street and other patrons.

“Yes, that’d be more than alright with me.”

And that was how Steve found himself scooting his chair closer to hers, sharing pasta and a bottle of red.

“Could I make a suggestion?” Peggy said after her second glass of wine had been poured.

“Okay?”

“You said the state of your room bothers you.”

“I meant to stop it from looking so miserable.”

“So then, let’s change that.”

“Sorry?”

“Let’s spruce it up, make it less glum. Perhaps that will lighten the atmosphere, so that you feel comfortable in it on difficult days.”

He bit his lip.

“I wouldn’t know how or what to do.”

“The same thing you did for me,” she said, taking a sip. “You’re a painter. So let’s paint.”

He had never considered doing that. Never considered that he now had the skill and means to fix the cracks that drove him mad.

“But, I don’t know if my super would allow that…”

“You mean free labor and upkeep that would increase the value of the property? I think it’ll be fine. However we can stay away from fuchsias or other bright colors.”

He couldn’t help but crack a grin. Just the suggestion of bright paint brightening his outlook on the idea.

“Come on, remember how much fun we had painting together?”

He did. Of course he did. He remembered teaching her to use a roller. He remembered her hair tied away from her face. He remembered touching her face for the first time. He remembered the warmth all over his body. It had been more than fun.

“You really want to spend time helping me do that?”

“Yes, of course.”

He couldn’t stop the ridiculous cheek-straining smile. He wondered if he could persuade her to an outfit similar to the one she wore painting her dining room.

They set out the plan throwing around paint color ideas, getting bolder with each new suggestion.

“You know,” she said, eyeing him over her wine glass, “while the paint dries, you can come stay at my place.”

He could only imagine how close a shade his face was to the wine. He couldn’t deny being surprised by her breezy proposition, but he refused to break eye contact. After all, it wasn’t an unwelcome one.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but for various reasons it's been hard to focus on this. On the upside (maybe) this is probably twice as long as I originally intended it to be. Anyway, happy reading.

 

**“All you need to paint is a few tools, a little instruction, and a vision in your mind.”**  
**― Bob Ross**

 

Peggy remained seated in her chair at the head of the conference room table while chatter broke out around the room. She just closed out another productive, and she would also proudly proclaim efficient, team meeting. The room dissolved into chatter as agents tucked their notepads and files away. She heard snippets of the various conversations: confirmations of mission details, questions about weekend plans and what sounded like a lively discussion over some TV show she was vaguely aware of being popular. She’d have to ask Steve later to explain it to her.

Just the thought of him excited her. Her boyfriend, as his earnest face so desperately needed confirmation on just a few days ago. Peggy couldn’t recall the last time she referred to someone as her boyfriend. Years, no doubt. And yet, it didn’t seem silly. She was even sure she liked it. But then again, it wasn’t hard to like things involving Steve.

Peggy hadn’t planned for a significant relationship. For years she had been telling herself she was too busy, and although true, was only partially the reason for her singledom. She loved her job and she knew she was good at it. It was enough. She wasn’t blind to various interest in her over the years, but still, she didn’t seek out or pursue any of them. It didn’t stop occasional pangs of loneliness. And then suddenly, there was Steve. In a matter of weeks, Peggy, who hadn’t longed deeply for a man or a relationship in years, had developed a strong connection. And suddenly, her reasons for not being in a relationship simply no longer held their weight.

Peggy cared for him, deeply. And that was all that mattered.

She took her time collecting her paperwork and organizing them into her portfolio. She picked up her paper coffee cup and strode over to the large monitor behind her, studying the latest investigation her team was piecing together. When she finally stepped back, the monitor now marked with a swath of notes, the afternoon sun had shifted. She shut off the monitor, picked up her portfolio, then checked her phone. Underneath a notification for her next meeting, she had a text from Steve.

_The heat’s made conditions so bad Miller’s sending us home early. Doesn’t want anyone else to pass out. I know you have a long day, so stay cool and I’ll check in on you later. Miss you._

It was the last two words that held her attention. She let herself have a quiet moment, smiling, basking in the message.

With a final flip of the light switch, Peggy shut the door to the conference room and headed back out into the chaos.

 

 

Peggy slunk into her office chair, propping up her feet, profusely grateful for the climate control within the office. She had just returned from a meeting at the U.N. and even the brief walk from the car to the building had made her perspire. New York was one giant sauna in the summertime on days like this. She sighed in relief, pulling both a file and her bowl of chocolates into her lap.

She only made it a paragraph into the report when Howard wandered in.

“How was the U.N.? Did they ask you to be a keynote speaker at the women’s rights conference?”

She narrowed her eyes. “I can never tell with you when you genuinely mean something supportive or if you’re just being a little shit as usual.”

He gasped. “Moi? Come on Pegs, this is me we’re talking about.”

“Exactly my point.”

“I don’t like what you’re insinuating. I am a champion of women everywhere. They’re my favorite people anywhere. You know, after myself.”

Peggy rolled her eyes at Howard’s devilish grin.

“Something you needed Howard? Shouldn’t you be on your way to D.C.?”

“Tomorrow morning. Perks of having a private plane. Besides, I need my beauty sleep.”

“For meetings with Phillips?”

“I like to put my best face forward. You know what that’s like. Even for military contracts. Anyway, just checking in. Gonna miss me?”

“What all four days you’re going to be gone? Yes, as ever, I’ll be just fine.”

“You don’t have to be so happy about it.” He snapped his fingers. “Speaking of. What is it you’re doing?”

“Pardon me?”

“You’re less tense these days. Is it yoga? What’s that new one called? The hot one? Bikram? Is your instructor hot? Can I join your class?”

“I’m not doing hot yoga Howard,” she said, flicking her attention back to the file. “In this weather, someone better come up with some cold aerobic variant.”

“Nah, then everyone’s gotta wear clothes,” he replied leaning over to take a foil wrapped chocolate from her bowl. She frowned at him. “Seriously though, you seem less stressed.”

Peggy shrugged. “I’m trying to separate work from the rest of my life in small doses. I stress the mental and physical wellbeing of my agents, therefore I figure I can stand to take a bit of my own advice. Only a little though, I have a lot of work to do.”

Truthfully, it had been more selfish than that. She did stress the wellbeing of SHIELD’s employees, especially given the nature of the work, not to mention the amount of law enforcement and military veterans they had on staff. But she had always been harder on herself, pushing her limits, and never bothering to count her hours or to take a step back as long as there was work to do. Then suddenly, she had Steve in her life, and she could clearly see the benefits of taking some time for herself.

“Good. I told you that you should’ve been delegating more the second you got the promotion.”

She sighed. “Yes, I’m working on that.”

 

 

“My super knew that I worked in construction,” Steve told her over dinner. “He knows someone who works with Miller.”

“Oh yeah? Did you tell him you were going to paint your room?”

“Yeah. I mean I asked for permission. I told him I was going to fix the cracks and all that too. He asked me if I would repaint the lobby.”

“And you’re going do it for him?”

Steve shrugged. “It wouldn’t take me long. The walls are in good shape.”

Peggy laughed. “You’re too kind. Please tell me you’re not doing this for free.”

“Well, not totally…”

“Steve!”

“Don’t worry. I told him I’d do it in exchange for him getting the buzzer and intercom fixed. It’s a safety issue. And he’s going to cover the cost of paint.”

Peggy smiled at her boyfriend. “Always so thoughtful.” She pressed her hand into his.

“It’s really not much work.” Steve shrugged. “And I don’t mind so much, as long as it’s going to help someone else out. And there’s this family that lives on the ground floor. I’m sure it would be nice to have some actual paint outside their door.”

“So you have permission and your super is aware of your skillset. Does this mean you’re going to choose a color other than white for your walls?”

Steve grinned. “You don’t like ‘Whisper’s Kiss’?”

“I think it looked exactly like ‘Mountain Snow’,” she remarked. For days he had been sending her pictures of white paint samples with preposterous names, and she didn’t see any difference between them.

“I don’t know. ‘Crisp Linen’ sounds good to me too.”

“You’re missing an obvious choice I think.” Steve hummed in question around his dinner. “Casa Blanca?”

“Oh. I forgot.” He pulled out his phone and started typing. “I put it at the top of the list.”

Seven o’clock passed and it was still scorching. The sun was setting at a snail’s pace with no noticeable temperature difference. The air was uncomfortably humid. Peggy could feel the wisps that had escaped her bun, curl and stick to her neck.

“It just keeps getting worse,” Steve complained from beside her.

She sighed and flicked her hair off her neck. “Seems to be inescapable.”

As they walked their arms touched, skin sticking.

“Ice cream,” Steve said after another half-block. “There’s a good ice cream place not too far. And we could use ice cream.”

Peggy smiled at him. She slipped her hand back into his, sweaty palm against sweaty palm, and let him lead the way. The ice cream parlor was jam packed, everyone seeming to have the same idea of how to beat the heat. The line was long with the upside of air conditioning. Peggy watched Steve grin at a little girl feeding her teddy bear spoonfuls of rainbow ice cream. They loitered in a corner as there were no open seats. There was no point in taking it outside, she didn’t want chocolate soup.

The ice cream cooldown helped, but it too was temporary, and soon they were back outside, melting in the heat. It was too hot to think or talk.

“This has been torturous,” Peggy complained.

“Four days straight of mid-nighties. This had better end soon, otherwise I’m going to live in my shower.”

Peggy nodded in agreement. New York had become a desert, and she was torturously parched. She felt like she could drink a gallon or two. Steve told her stories of the times growing up when he’d stumble upon a fire hydrant some teenagers cracked open during blazing summers. She grinned at the images it conjured, as he told her how he couldn’t help himself, how he’d jump in, cool water splashing him so hard in the face he was easily knocked over. She had a mind to crack a fire hydrant open that very moment, the law be damned.

Suddenly, an idea came to her, a great one. She only wished it had occurred to her an hour earlier. What they needed was a dip in a pool. And she had just the pool in mind.

Peggy pulled out her phone and quickly texted Ana her plan. She knew Ana would approve, but she had rather seek her blessing before breaking into Howard’s penthouse. She stopped Steve in his tracks before they walked any further in the opposite direction of his apartment.

“I have a plan,” she told him, as he looked on in confusion. “Do you have a swimsuit?”

“I have swim trunks,” he answered hesitantly. “Why?”

She eyed him with excitement. This was really one of her top notch ideas.

“I need you to go home and get them. I’ll text you an address. Meet me there in say, half an hour?”

“Where are you going?”

“I need to pick something up. Go. I promise this will be well worth it. Half an hour,” she repeated.

Peggy headed home herself. She rummaged in her drawers until she found her swimsuit, the two piece in sultry red she hadn’t worn in ages. She was thoroughly relieved that it still fit. She grabbed extra towels and sent Ana another reply.

She’s entirely too excited. She couldn’t help it. A rooftop pool amid the New York lights, all alone with Steve… Of course she was excited.

She was around the corner when Steve texted her that he was out front and completely confused as to where he was supposed to be.

“Where are we?” he asked when he spotted her. “I thought you wanted to go swimming or something.”

“Oh, you’ll see,” she said loftily taking his hand.

The doorman tipped his hat at her as she warmly bid him hello.

“Are we pulling some sort of robbery?” Steve asked once they were inside the elevator.

Peggy laughed. “You honestly think if I brought you to pull some sort of heist, I wouldn’t have told you first?”

“I don’t know.” Steve shrugged not backing down. “Maybe the less I know the better when the cops catch us.”

Well, if it had been true once, she supposed she couldn’t blame him for his guess.

“Never you mind. But if I needed your help you would have been given a specific job. Anyway, we wouldn’t be caught,” she told him confidently making Steve chuckle. “I promise this is purely pleasure.”

They met Ana who immediately sized Steve up and eagerly threw her arms around him in a joyous hug. Peggy seemed to have a knack for befriending very affectionate women.

“I’m so thrilled to finally meet you Steve,” Ana said.

Peggy bit her lip looking at the shock on Steve’s face. She wondered the last time, apart from herself, that a woman threw herself so enthusiastically at him.

“It’s very nice to meet you too,” Steve replied ever politely.

Ana turned to give Peggy a particularly approving look, no doubt agreeing with her husband’s earlier assessment of Steve.

Ana led them into Stark’s sprawling penthouse.

“It’s the perfect evening actually,” Ana said. “The pool cleaners were just here, and to be quite honest, it hasn’t been getting much use this summer, not since Howard’s breakup.”

“Really? And he was so fond of those pool parties,” she replied dryly.

“It’s good someone will get some use of it. Now, I left clean towels and robes out, and I brought up a pitcher of Edwin’s famous spa water. It’s in the fridge. And if you need anything, just let me know.”

“I really appreciate it Ana,” Peggy told her, letting herself be pulled into a hug.

“Oh not at all.” She squeezed Peggy close, and then once she pulled away, she winked suggestively. “Have fun,” she whispered.

She certainly planned on it.

Steve seemed to still be shocked at the scene before him, eyeing every corner of the penthouse within view with awe and wonder.

“So this is Stark’s house?”

“Indeed. One of, I should say. He’d be upset to hear I didn’t acknowledge his Hamptons home, or the mansion in Beverly Hills, and so forth,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

Peggy opened the French doors that led to the large rooftop lounge and pool. He let out a loud disbelieving breath. The smell of the chlorine and the sight of the aquamarine water glinting with the last of the sun’s rays captured her attention too. There were plenty of lounge chairs, an outdoor bar, and an outdoor fireplace not far from a Jacuzzi tub at the far end. She couldn’t blame Steve for his awe. It was a rare New York oasis.

“And he knows we’re here?”

Peggy couldn’t help but grin. “Not a clue. That’s part of the appeal.” Steve’s eyes widened. “He’s out of town.”

“So this is a B&E.”

She laughed, walking over toward two lounge chairs. “It’s an evening dip in someone else’s private pool. Come on, you know this is so very tempting.”

Steve didn’t deny it, but it he still looked a little hesitant. That had no place in her plan, and therefore she needed to remedy it.

Peggy shook her hair loose of her bun, kicked off her sandals, and then tugged her shirt over her head. She didn’t have to turn to know she had Steve’s full attention. She walked right past him with innocent eyes to check the water temperature and then to grab towels to drape over their recliners. He was silent as he continued to watch her, the bob in his Adam’s apple clear even from afar. She headed inside to fill cold glasses of Jarvis’ citrus infused water. Steve had finally moved into the chair next to the one she claimed.

She handed him a glass. “It’s perfect weather for a swim.” He nodded, still looking a little dazed. “Well come on,” she urged with an excited smile. “Let’s jump in.”

Steve grinned boyishly and finally stood.

“You go to that end and we’ll meet in the middle,” she instructed playfully.

As she jogged over to one end, Steve finally pulled off his shirt, flinging it toward his chair as he took off in the other direction. From across the long side of the pool they looked at each other. Peggy was glad for the moment that there was a pool between them. She knew he was fit, his usual t-shirts never obscuring his biceps, but bloody hell, he was unfair.

She shimmed out of her shorts, looking over to see Steve do the same.

“Ready?” he teased.

“On three.”

“Meet you in the middle.”

They count out together and on three they dove. Cool water splashed loudly around her and she let herself sink for a few seconds before surfacing. With easy strokes, she met Steve, pushing wet hair out of her eyes. Steve was scrubbing a hand across his eyes, his light hair looking dark plastered to his forehead. She reached out to brush it aside.

“This is amazing,” he said with a laugh.

“As is the view.” She unabashedly stared at his unbelievable pecs as he turned his neck to take in the skyline.

“It’s incredible.”

“I meant you, darling,” she teased, waiting for him to meet her gaze.

“Oh.” He refocused on her. “Well, I know for a fact that I have the best view of all.”

She leaned in, one arm around his neck. “Charmer,” she murmured before kissing him. And then, while he was distracted, she dunked him.

She cackled as he surfaced.

“Oh you’re so on Carter!”

Before she could move out of range he grabbed hold of her feet making her squeal. She kicked out at him but he doesn’t budge. They giggled like children, chasing each other all over the pool, an exercise she found wholly unfair because with his breadth, he was able to get across the pool in mere strokes.

They caught their breaths and she twined her hands around his neck, both giddy. Their lips moved against each other, Peggy unable to stop her palms from pressing against the firm muscles of his chest, nor could she stop the pleasant shudder when Steve’s palm ran up her spine.  
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After tiring themselves out swimming, they sat at the edge of the pool, feet still splashing in the water, arms and thighs pressed against each other.

“Howard Stark’s private rooftop pool, huh?”

“One of my more brilliant ideas,” she replied, her painted toes nudging against his ankle.

“I just can’t even believe he has this.”

“ _Billionaire_ Howard Stark,” she said. “And you heard Ana. He’s hardly even used it this summer. I’m simply adding value to his investments. And what better way than with a private evening swim with you?”

“I definitely can’t argue with that.”

 

 

Daniel stopped in her office after another team meeting.

“You’re really taking the weekend off?” he asked her, after a minute of repeating questions she’d already answered.

Peggy raised her eyebrow at him, settling further back in her chair.

“I’ll still be on call, I just won’t be coming into the office until Monday,” she reiterates, even though she had explained it in two meetings and an email that week.

Daniel jerked his shoulders in a gesture vaguely resembling a shrug. “I just can’t remember the last time you’ve taken time off.”

She willed herself not to roll her eyes. The meeting may be casual, but as his superior, she really should maintain her professionalism. Peggy had to assume Daniel was merely curious as she wasn’t known for taking time off, but in fact the opposite. Back when they shared adjoining desks, he had a very clear picture of the hours she pulled, even when she had been relegated to pulling files and polishing reports in favor of Thompson running leads.

“That’s because I haven’t,” she agreed. “But again, I’ll be on call. And it’s only two days.”

“And you’re really leaving Rose in charge?” Daniel asked.

Peggy frowned at him. “Agent Roberts is more than capable,” she said in a clipped tone.

“I know, but she’s never had to hold the entire fort down before.”

“Are you concerned about Agent Roberts’ ability or are you upset in the choice I made?” Peggy doesn’t give him a chance to answer. She’s sure Daniel doesn’t mean harm, but she wouldn’t leave room for anyone to doubt Rose. “She’s the only one on the team who has never had a chance at taking charge, and I believe in the last six months she’s more than proven herself.”

“You’re right. I didn’t mean it that way. I’m sorry.”

“I am as confident in my decision now as I was when I considered it when I put in my request for the time off.”

“So you planned this time off?”

It’s none of his business really, and she’s never been keen to share on sharing personal matters with co-workers but she supposed it would clear up Daniel’s lingering concerns to know she hadn’t taken time off without thought and care.

“Actually yes.”

“Oh.” He looked shocked. “It just seems so unlike you.”

She shrugged. “It’s hardly a vacation. Just two days out of the office.”

Daniel nodded. “You work hard. You deserve the time off.”

“Thank you.” She purposefully shuffled her papers, straightening a stack noisily. “Any other questions or concerns Agent Sousa?”

He shook his head, clutched his cane and headed toward the door.

“Have a good weekend Agent Carter.”

“You too, Daniel.”

 

 

Peggy left the office early on Friday. She had full confidence in her team and in Rose, but she had expected it to be harder to leave. Instead, her heart beat excitedly at the prospect of a full weekend of Steve, morning to evening full of her sweet boyfriend.

She headed home to change out of her suit and into painting clothes. She also took the time to get her bedroom ready for Steve’s stay. Then she dug through her drawers. She sorted through her sleepwear, setting a recently purchased black nightgown at the forefront, her favorite lacy black lingerie set on top of it. No need to risk ruining it painting. She could slip it on later. Pleased with her handiwork, she headed to meet Steve.

He greeted her with a long kiss in the doorway.

“The cracks need to be scraped but I have to run out and get a few more drop cloths to cover the furniture. I thought we could at least start moving all the furniture towards the middle of the room,” he explained when she asked for the day’s plan.

Steve had lined up the supplies in the hallway outside his bedroom.

“And you packed your bag?” she asked.

“Yeah, just about,” he told her pointing at the duffle bag near his closet.

“Good,” she purred, running her fingers up his arm, letting him dip his head to kiss her. “Though I suppose you won’t need much,” she teased, looking up to see him bite his lip. “I’m pretty sure I have most anything you’ll require.”

She purposefully sauntered toward the corner, flashing her eyelashes at him, and bending over to unplug his lamp from the outlet. She grinned to herself hearing his sharp intake of breath.

Peggy focused on the task at hand, working on the left side of his room, while Steve worked on the right. They unplug electronics, and moved everything towards the center of the room. Admittedly, she had the easier load, but Steve had started to move his bed on his own account, and then she got distracted watching. She had a very good memory of the muscles that lay beneath his grey t-shirt, although it was tight enough she hardly needed her memory. It’s strange, because she had undoubtedly seen dozens of similarly impressively built men throughout her career. Steve’s muscular build had been the first time that sight seemed to overpower her sensibleness. He was utterly attractive, no doubt about it, but physical looks had never been enough to sway her. She supposed it made sense that the whole entity of Steve called to her; his gentleness, his vast capacity for focus and thoughtfulness all worked in tandem; of course the whole package attracted her so intensely.

“Peggy?”

She snapped out of her reverie, Steve having moved away from the repositioned bed to check on her. She’d been staring. She had a quite clear idea of the possessive edge to her gaze. But she couldn’t help it.

Her arms flew out, winding around his neck. Peggy kissed him hard, harder still when she felt his broad palms slide down her sides before settling at her hips. The warmth of his mouth, of his hands, burned right through her. She parted her lips and led him backwards with the full weight of her body. She pushed him back onto his bed. He took her with him, one arm curled tightly around her, his other hand cradling the back of her head protectively. They both inhaled at the same moment. Then their kisses became deeper as Peggy traced her fingertips down his neck and Steve gripped her even tighter against him.

She broke from his mouth, only to hear him gasp her name when she pressed a feather-light kiss to the underside of his jaw, and then lower down his neck. She felt his fingers skate underneath her shirt, swirling in circles at the small of her back. The touch made her sigh in full pleasure. Steve took the opportunity to sit up, gazing at her so intensely with those blue eyes that she shivered in the heat. He cupped her cheek, both rearranging themselves in the new position. Steve leaned forward, kissing her cheek and then her neck, fingers still tucked underneath her shirt. She moaned, fingers tangled in his hair.

And then her phone chimed. Four times in a row.

She gritted her teeth in frustration.

“Work?” Steve murmured hoarsely, already disengaging.

“They better bloody hope not,” she muttered.

The last thing she wanted was to stop touching him, but her purse was lying on the floor in between a bookcase and his desk, too far to retrieve from Steve’s lap. While she rifled through her purse, silently cursing whoever suddenly needed her not even four hours into her absence, Steve swung his feet over the side of his bed, trying to smooth down his hair.

“It’s Howard!” Peggy cried out. “Oh that asshole.”

“About work stuff?”

“Partly,” she said with another loud sigh. The fact that he had a legitimate reason, rather than just somehow sensing the exact best time to interrupt her, only made Peggy more frustrated. “Not that he really needed to send this to me when he knows full well I’m out of the office.”

She spent a good five minutes forwarding inquires and directions for Rose and a few other agents. She supposed she should have been glad Howard actually seemed to have his head focused on SHIELD and not just Stark Industries, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to find a reason for slapping him in the face when she saw him next.

“Sorry,” she told him. “It shouldn’t happen again unless it is honestly an emergency.”

Steve nodded with an unperturbed smile. “Not a problem. You told me you were still going to be on call.”

“Maybe it’s a problem in my book.”

Steve pinked just slightly, but he grinned openly at her. “Probably best if we go get those drop cloths before the hardware store closes.”

Right. The job at hand. She hadn’t realized how much time had passed in getting caught up. But it had felt so good. And she was far from done with him.

“Yes, I suppose we should,” she said reluctantly. “I suppose we do have all weekend.”

The pink in his cheeks became more noticeable.

When they returned with the drop cloths, she had thrown the first over his bed as to remove the temptation. Out of sight, out of mind. For the moment. She put her hair up, and listened as Steve instructed her on how to scrape the peeling paint. He handed her a paint scraper and showed the best way to hold it. Throwing herself into an assignment was something she very adept at, and it happened to be a very good distraction from the other things she wanted to do with Steve. But first and foremost, she needed to help Steve remake his room. After all, it had been her idea. They worked in tandem, starting in the same corner, only Steve stood on a chair scraping the cracks from the ceiling.

“I knew those cracks so well,” he told her when he reached the middle of the room. “Used to stare at them when I couldn’t sleep. Drove me nuts. I don’t know why I never thought to just get rid of them.”

She reached a hand out to squeeze his arm, watching him smooth them out. He let out a satisfied breath when the ceiling no longer bore the angry grooves.

Scraping took time, more than she had expected, and her forearms started to feel sore from the back and forth motion. The floor and all the coverings were littered with paint chips.

Steve brought both a vacuum and a broom into the room. Peggy snagged the vacuum and directed him to sweep the dust out of the corners for her to suck up. There was a bit of a dance to the rhythm of their work, Steve shuffling in front of her, Peggy twirling around him, wrapping his feet with the cord more than once. They laughed, and when finally the cleaning was over, Steve wrapped an arm around her, and with a slight dip, pressed a kiss to her mouth.  
¬  
Peggy felt butterflies when Steve picked up his duffle bag and they finally headed for her place. Again, it sank in that they were really spending a weekend together. Steve seemed a little nervous once they were headed up her elevator. She squeezed his hand and gently led him through her door. And then again through her bedroom door.

“So, the blue towels are for you. And I brought in extra pillows and blankets,” she said. “And I don’t know which side you like to sleep on, but I cleared off the bedside table on your right. Which can easily be swapped. And as you did work on my place, I’m sure you know where everything is.”

He nodded with an amused smile. “Yeah, I do.”

They both wanted to wash up, so while Steve headed to the guest bathroom, Peggy grabbed her planned attire from her drawer before heading into her bathroom to shower. She didn’t bother with makeup or fixing her hair. She was sure she didn’t need either, not with Steve. When she heard Steve’s footsteps she quickly slipped on her silky robe and went out to meet him.

He had his back turned to her, wearing a soft looking t-shirt and athletic shorts. He turned, surprise coloring his face, only it wasn’t because of her short and partially open robe.

“How did you—” He pointed to the photo she kept propped against her vanity mirror, his face staring back at him.

Her cheeks burned a little as she grinned at him a little guiltily. She had forgotten he didn’t know she had it.

“I might have nicked it.”

“But—” He was bewildered and totally lost for words. “—why? It’s such a bad picture.”

“Take that back,” she said fiercely. “It’s lovely. And I get to see your face every morning.”

It made him blush, but that pleased bashful look she loved so much returned to his face. From the second she looked upon that photo of young Steve, she had been enraptured, melding the Steve she knew with the one who started boot camp with maybe a little more to prove. Peggy had found herself tucking the photo carefully into her purse when Steve hadn’t been looking and for days she studied his thin, serious face and with the blond hair falling over his forehead. It was Steve. Her Steve.

“Gee Peg, you sure know how to make a guy feel special.”

She laughed in a low tone, releasing the knot in her robe’s sash. “Night’s not over. I know other ways to make you feel special.”

He inhaled sharply, stepping forward until they were inches apart, pupils dilated. She eased the silky fabric off her shoulders, and the moment it fell to the floor, his hands were cupping her shoulders.

“And you could still see my face in the morning.”

Then it was her breath that caught, the heat from his body against hers making her flustered.

“That’ll be a requirement.”

Their mouths met, desperate and needy, and in no time she has a leg around him. Hands grasped at each other, pulling off clothing and exploring new patches of bare skin. She hummed at the sound of Steve gasping her name especially when he discovered the lace she was wearing, and they finally landed on her bed, bare skin against bare skin.

 

 

In the cool, still dark of her room, hours later, long she’s more than just a quivering mess of muscles, breath steady, body loose, she focused on the feel of Steve’s index finger tracing up the long line of her body. They were both lying on their sides, looking toward each other with lazy, sated smiles. His tender touch, appreciatively in its wandering, was endlessly soothing. It was undoubtedly the most pleasant company she’s had in bed.

“That was more than anything I could’ve ever dreamed up.”

She smiled, reaching out to caress his cheek. “It was pretty incredible, darling.” His eyes fluttered and he leaned into her touch, his finger stilling against her skin.

“I like it when you call me that,” he whispered, eyes still closed.

“Oh, good to know,” she teased, “darling.”

She basked in the silence, warm and cozy, letting Steve continue to map her contours. And something about the moment, the incredible level of her comfort, made her want to open herself up further.

“I’ve never taken this amount of time off,” she admitted.

“Never?”

“Never. Definitely never for personal reasons.”

“Peggy.” His voice was slightly hoarse, and she knew that the message even more than the words had an obvious effect on him. His presence was a choice she made full well.

“Not just for this,” she continued, “I just wanted to spend the weekend with you.”

He turned his head until her palm met his lips.

“I’m glad you’re here Steve.”

He exhaled. “Me too Peggy, you have no idea how much I wanted this.”

She let out a quiet laugh. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I have a pretty good idea.”

He snorted, then shivered as her fingers touched his upper thigh.

“I still can’t believe you stole that picture,” he said. “I didn’t even notice it gone.”

She laughed. “You told me I needed a picture of some good looking guy in my room.”

“I didn’t expect it to be me.”

“Maybe I didn’t want anyone else.”

His hand stilled against her hip, fingers spreading out, cupping it. “I don’t either.”

“I’ve never wanted a relationship with someone the way I do with you. Never thought it practical given my line of work. But now, I just know that I want to have you in my life.”

“I know what you mean.” He curled an arm around her, pulling her flush against him. “You mean so much to me,” he whispered hotly.

She threw a leg over his, humming. “How about you show me one more time just how much.”

He grinned up at her, smiling against her lips before he pulled her onto him, hands wandering low against her spine, lips already nipping at her neck. She sighed. She could get used to being spoiled by Steve Rogers.

 

 

She woke to the sun streaming in through the window. Peggy blinked awake to find her head resting on Steve’s chest who was still sleeping, his arm curled tight around her. She listened to his breathing and peeked up to see his free arm raised over his eyes. Without a compelling reason to wake up, she stayed snuggled against him. Contented and peaceful, she drifted back to sleep.

The next time she woke, Steve had both arms around her and his blue eyes were watching her.

“Good morning,” he said with a sleepy smile.

“Morning.” She ran her hand up his chest before sitting up. “How about some coffee?” He managed a hum of approval as his eyes wandered. She moved off the bed and when he started to follow she pushed him gently back onto the bed. “Stay. Coffee in bed.” He pulled her in for a kiss before letting her go.

She picked his shirt off the floor and pulled it over her head. She glanced back to see Steve still eyeing her. She grinned to herself all the way to the kitchen, barely aware of the coffee pot gurgling as she drifted with the memories of the previous night.

Steve had propped himself up against the headboard on a stack of pillows when she returned with two mugs. He let her place them on the bedside table before he reached for her waist and settled her into his lap. They made it through two sips of coffee each before she set them aside. Steve grabbed the hem of his shirt and she pulled it fully off. She gasped as he smoothly rolled them until she was situated beneath him. Her eyes shut as he kissed down her shoulder, stopping over her breast before continuing further down. Just as he had earlier, he spent a long moment on each of her thigh scars, pressing soft kisses, thumbing at the marks. Her fingers threaded through his hair keeping him exactly where she wanted him as he continued on, making her lose her breath.

She had to insist on separate showers if they were ever going to get out of her apartment and back to working on his room. It didn’t stop her from reeling him in for some last minute languid kisses before she made it into the bathroom.

 

 

It’s mid-afternoon before the newly patched walls were ready for sanding. Steve, having only one protective face mask and safety glasses, preferred that he do the less than glamorous task alone. Peggy volunteered to grab lunch.

Steve was covered head to toe in white dust from sanding when she made it back.

“You weren’t kidding about the mess.”

“Nope.” He shook his clothes clean. “It’s really my least favorite part. But it’s done.”

They ate in the living room, spreading the food out on the coffee table. Steve turned the TV on for background noise.

“The extra sandwich is for Bucky. I didn’t know if he was going to be around or not.”

Steve mumbled around the large bite he had just taken and reached into his back pocket for his phone. “I’m not sure actually,” he said. “I think he’s with his sister but I’ll ask him. But thanks for thinking of him.”

“I still have yet to meet him.”

She thought it might have happened over the weekend, but Bucky apparently hadn’t been spending much time there. But she was glad to know that his absence seemed normal and not upsetting to Steve.

“Yeah. I really want to introduce you two,” Steve said. “Maybe we can all go out to do something. Grab dinner or something.”

“Sure, whenever he’s available,” she agreed. He was important to Steve, and she figured it was better to meet him sooner than later.

Steve finished the last of his sandwich and fell back against the couch cushions with a loud sigh.

“Tired?”

He smiled sheepishly. “I’m just kinda sore. You know. From the work and well last night.”

Peggy smirked. She did know. “Do we have a lot left today?”

“Well, I thought we’d maybe even finish today and have a free day tomorrow. But honestly, I’m not sure I want to both prime and paint it today.”

She nodded, reaching over to rub his shoulders and arms. “So we’ll finish tomorrow. We’ll get an early start in the morning. There’s no need to rush.”

“Yeah. That sounds good.” He sighed again as she dug her fingers further into his tight shoulders, loosening his tense muscles.

 

 

A sharp sound caused Peggy to jerk awake. She blinked rapidly, already feeling the absence of a warm body pressed against her back. Steve was sitting up, chest heaving, staring blankly at nothing. He evidently was startled awake from a nightmare.

Peggy switched on her lamp.

“Steve?” she murmured softly.

She didn’t like the sound of his labored breathing, nor the way he flinched when he finally met her eye.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” he managed between gasps.

“It’s alright,” she said, moving behind him to rub gently at his back. She reached a hand around toward his. He squeezed it, a little too tightly, but she didn’t pull away. “It’s okay Steve.”

Peggy patiently murmured gentle assurances, as he slowly regain control of his breathing. Finally, most of the tension in his back released, he allowed her to tug him back down against the bed, cradling him close.

“Nightmare?” she asked gently.

He nodded eyes serious and downcast. “I woke you,” he told her miserably.

“Hey, it’s okay. It’s okay, darling.” She brushed her fingers through his hair as he squeezed his eyes shut. “Would you like to talk about it?”

Steve was silent, but she didn’t push for more. She continued to play with his hair, hoping that if he didn’t want to talk, it would at least help lull him to sleep.

“Don’t remember much,” he broke the silence after a long while. “It was confusing. Buck was there. You were there. Then an explosion. And I couldn’t find anyone. I was alone. Everything hurt. But I couldn’t find anyone. And then boom. Again.”

Peggy slid down to his eye level. She made a point of keeping eye contact.

“It was a nightmare. Everyone’s okay. Just a bad dream,” she whispered. “I’m right here.”

Steve nodded fervently even as he buried his head against her chest.

“Just a dream,” he breathed against her clavicle.

Peggy clutched him close. “Just a dream.”

She must have dozed off because when her eyes opened the room was full of sunlight and Steve was no longer in bed. She spotted him sitting in her armchair, pulled up to the window. He had a sketchbook in his lap with his pencil poised mid-air as he looked out. He looked exhausted and she wondered if he had slept at all.

“Steve?”

He craned his neck toward her and she had a clearer view of his heavy eyes. He tucked his pencil into the book and set it down before walking toward her bed.

“I’m sorry I woke you up in the middle of the night.”

She shook her head. She didn’t care in the least about that. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired.”

Peggy reached for her phone to check the time and then beckoned him with an outstretched arm. It was early enough and she would feel better if he slept even a little. Once within reach, she cupped his cheek and pressed a feather light kiss to the top of his head. He sighed heavily.

“Try to sleep.”

“We were supposed to get an early start.”

“Doesn’t matter. We have time. Sleep.”

Steve tucked his head against her shoulder, his breath tickling the base of her neck. Her arm around his back remained firm, her fingers running lightly over his back. Just as she had hours earlier, she listened to his breaths, only letting her guard down once he was asleep.

He looked much more alert when he woke later but he thought a shower would help refresh his headspace. While he showered, Peggy grabbed her phone. She had a sudden idea she wanted to pursue. While she waited for responses, she threw on her robe and went in search of the nice tea set she received from her grandmother the first time she left London. She was still typing on her phone when Steve wandering into the kitchen.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek and even managed a smile.

She set tea and breakfast out on her dining room table.

“You left the bed,” she said gently, setting a hot cup of tea in front of him.

“Yeah.” Steve scratched the back of his neck. “Usually if I can’t sleep I draw. It helps. And I didn’t want to wake you. Again.”

Peggy nodded, sliding over the sugar bowl. She had a feeling that was the case.

“Well you’re welcome to draw in my bed. I’m usually a heavy sleeper.” she said with a smile.

“Okay. I guess I wasn’t sure. I’m not used to sharing a bed with someone.”

“That I understand. It’s an adjustment,” she agreed. “But if there’s anything I can do to make you feel more comfortable…”

“You’re great Peg. Really. It’s nothing to do with you. It just happens to me some nights.” He sighed. “I guess I should be glad it didn’t happen the first night.”

“It wouldn’t matter. It’s not something I’d be upset over,” she stressed. “So I don’t want you to be upset with yourself. Not on my account. Ever.” She took a long sip of piping hot tea. “I imagine in given time you’ll unfortunately be woken up by me getting called in at odd hours.”

Peggy watched him perk up, as if hearing that he finally understood that she really expected to keep inviting him into her life.

“Comes with the territory of being with you,” he said with a full blown smile. He was proud, she realized, and that made her stomach flutter.

“Indeed,” she said. “Just make sure you sweep your eraser bits away from my nice sheets.”

He chuckled and kissed her cheek again.

She was putting the tea set carefully into a cabinet, Steve wiping down the table in the next room, when she heard her text alert. She had one of the replies she had been waiting for, a positive one at that.

_I’m thrilled to have you on board. I’ll be sure to email you further details_ , she typed out.

One thing set, she sent a quick email Howard and Colonel Phillips. With the ball rolling, she put her phone down and returned her focus to her last day off with Steve. After all, they had a room that needed painting.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while. Much like this fic in general, this chapter took on a life of its own, and as such morphed into a beast of a thing. Some personal stuff kept me from finishing this sooner and I didn’t want to post it until I was completely happy with it. Again, it's a bit of a long one. Thanks for your patience.  
> I don't have an exact number of chapters left just yet, but we are starting to wind down on this fic. Of course things could change, but just as a heads up in case you were wondering.

 

  
**“Painting creates. It does not limit itself to imitation or reproduction. Any desire to confine painting within the limits of _déjà vu_ would be a gross misunderstanding of the essence of what painting is. Painting allows us to see that which without it would never be seen.”**  
**― Marcel Paquet, _Botero_**

 

 

Steve dropped his paintbrush into the tray at his feet. The last coat of paint had taken them just a couple of hours. Peggy smiled softly at him from her spot at his side. While Peggy headed into the bathroom to clean his brushes, Steve started to pull the drop cloths off his furniture. He’d wait a few hours to actually move his furniture back into place. Instead, he started to inspect the walls for any less than perfect spots. It looked good, fresh and clean, bright and new. And his head sure felt a little duller, definitely more calm, after all the repetitive motions.

“Steve?” Peggy called. He must have drifted off staring at the walls because he didn’t hear her come back. She walked over still holding the wet brushes in one hand while reaching out to squeeze his left hand with her free one. “I was thinking that you could stay over one more night.”

He took the brushes from her and set them upright in one of his buckets to dry. He had to admit it was a tempting and appealing idea, one he had considered throughout the afternoon as the bright sun slowly started to set. But he hadn’t dared let himself plan on it. He knew she had early mornings, and so did he. Although, admittedly, his current job site was much closer to her place.

“You have to work tomorrow.” She shrugged in response. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“I doubt I’ll be called in early, especially when I already plan to be at the office early. And I really think you ought to let your room air out the paint fumes for one more day.”

Steve hesitated, not on any real grounds but simply because he was still embarrassed about the nightmare. He believed Peggy when she told him that she wasn’t upset, but still, he worried that he’d just have another. Especially about her. And in her bed. It was decidedly unromantic pillow talk. But sharing a bed with Peggy the past two nights had been something out of a dream, and he was sure he’d have a hard time going back to lonely nights.

“If it wouldn’t disturb you. I mean it would be on the safer side not to sleep in here another night,” he babbled, scratching absently at his neck, “then yeah, I’d really like that.”

She smiled encouragingly. “Yes, me too.”

The comforting gesture of her palm against the small of his back made his body relax, and he released a relieved breath. He tossed his work clothes into his duffel bag, a clean pair of pajamas and adds a few pencils to go with his sketchbook. Bucky didn’t appear by the time they left for her loft so he sent him a text just to let him know he was spending another night with Peggy. The emojis that he received in reply were completely undignified, and yet Steve still found himself grinning a little.

_Don’t be an ass James Buchanan Barnes._

_Ouch. That did not warrant full name usage. Have fun. Do anything I would do._

 

Peggy suggested ordering in for dinner to accompany an evening on her couch. She put him in charge of finding something on Netflix, something he was still astounded she only used a handful of times. It’s funny because Steve had always loved movies, loved watching things. He remembered all the times on base he spent watching whatever was available with his unit. They passed the hours waiting for action by devouring whatever show or movie they had. On rare occasions there’d be a new DVD from someone’s care package. It was one of the ways his unit became close, how they destressed from a constantly stressful environment.

He thought Peggy was slowly warming to the magic that was thousands of movies and TV shows at the push of a button, another way for her to decompress from her hectic life. But what Steve loved even more was the cuddling. He had a built in excuse for pressing Peggy into his body for at least ninety minutes, breathing in the scent of her; the lingering notes of her perfume and the wafting residue of shampoo and lotion. It was perfect hours of feeling the softness of her skin, and the pervading warmth of shared space. And when she would stretch out her limbs, shifting until the curvatures of their bodies molded together perfectly, only made it the moment better. He loved it. And he would take it any dose he could get.

“How about something warm to drink?” she asked. “Something soothing before bed?”

“Maybe some herbal tea if you have it.”

She nodded and kissed him before getting off the couch, so tenderly it made him sigh for a long moment while she headed into the kitchen. He loved Peggy so much. He’d never known his pulsating heart to feel so warm and full. Weeks upon weeks of knowing her, and still seemed unreal to have managed to hold onto such an unbelievable feeling.

It was warm in her bedroom, and since they’d been intimate, Steve felt comfortable wearing only his boxers to bed. When Peggy plucked his shirt off the top of his duffel and slipped it over her underwear he couldn’t help but stare. She looked good in absolutely everything, but in his shirt, it thrilled him to completely selfish ends. It made him pull her on top of him. They kissed long and languidly, warm tongue against warm tongue, the mere scraps of cloth between them only fueling the desire. He’d never felt every nerve in his body firing the way he did when he was touching Peggy.

“How are you feeling?” she asked after their mouths disengaged, hands playing with each other’s hair.

“Okay,” he told her. And he did. For the most part.

“You’re sure?” she asked gently. “Because if there’s anything you’d like to get off your chest before going to sleep…”

His eyes closed, and for a split-second he remembered a violent image from his nightmare. It made his shoulders shudder. When he opened his eyes, Peggy’s gazed back in concern.

“I’m okay,” he repeated. “But… It’s hard. I feel like you constantly have to be the one making sure I’m okay. And that’s not fair to you.”

“Steve,” she admonished gently. “Darling, look at me. I’m not keeping scoring.”

Still, his shoulders hunched, and he ducked his head. “I just don’t want to become a burden,” he admitted, just barely audibly.

He felt her lips press against his forehead.

“You know you’re not the only one receiving comfort. You give me the same support in return and I don’t want you to convince yourself of the opposite,” she said.

“You have no idea how lonely and isolated I’ve been to. It’s the job. But it wasn’t until I had Angie and Jarvis in my life that I realized how nice it is to have someone caring in my life again. It’s something I’ve been working on for years. On trying to maintain close relationships despite the job. Despite the fact that I’ve lost many people close to me already. And with you, even when the world gets to me, I feel better knowing I have you.”

His breath hitched and he closed the gap to kiss her hard. That’s what he felt between them too. A solidity would weather storms.

“I feel better knowing you too,” he replied, squeezing her close.

They fell asleep spooning, Peggy’s chest at his back, her arms possessive around his chest, head in the crook of his neck, and one of her ankles thrown over his thigh. He’d never been held that way. He loved it. He felt warm and wanted and even if he’d have another nightmare, she’d be right there.

He woke when Peggy did, hearing her rustling out of bed at the sound of her alarm at a quarter to six. She smiled sleepily at him as she headed into the bathroom. He could snooze for another hour if he wanted to. He was only fifteen minutes from the job site, and not needed until eight. But after a while of dozing, he padded to the kitchen, turning on her kettle and rummaging in her fridge to make her breakfast.

“Wondered where you went,” Peggy called as she walked into the room wonderfully put together, hair and makeup immaculate. He did however notice she wasn’t wearing any lipstick.

“Wanted to make you some tea before you go.”

She smiled brightly and stepped into him, her hand running up his bare chest making him shiver.

“That’s very sweet of you darling,” she murmured.

Their lips met, and Steve groaned as her fingers started to run down to his navel.

“Wish the weekend was longer,” he breathed into her ear.

Her laugh tickled the skin of his neck. “Oh, I heartily agree. But we’ve only a few more minutes before I need to go.”

He nodded against her. “Breakfast? I can make you some eggs real fast.”

She hummed, resuming her suckling of his neck and jaw. “My appetite is set for something else.”

She pushed into him until his back bumped the countertop, fingers hooked into the elastic waistband of his underwear. It would be rude to refuse her. He palmed the side of her bare thigh, her tight skirt inching up, and a moment later his boxers hit the floor. He grabbed her by the hips and set her atop the counter, feeling her fingers dig into the muscles in his back as he rid her of her own underwear.

“Have to be quick,” she said, humming as he popped open her blouse’s buttons.

“I can be quick,” he promised, kissing at her clavicle.

She let out a sigh and tossed her head back. “And don’t you dare ruin my hair.”

He grinned at her, and pressed her harder against him.

 

He missed her all day, and even made it two blocks towards the wrong train before he realized that he wasn’t supposed to head to Peggy’s, but to his apartment. It had been strange leaving her loft alone that morning. He’d done it on several occasions while working on her remodel, often the last to leave with one final garbage bag. But this time it felt different. He’d had express permission from Peggy to make himself at home. He needed the nap and shower after she had left for work. And now he still seemed to have taken her order very seriously to have forgotten that the weekend was over and he had his own apartment to get back to.

Bucky was in the kitchen stirring something in a pot when he walked in. It was the first time he’d seen him since Friday morning.

“Hey Buck.”

“Hey. So…” Bucky drew out, smirking a little. “How was your weekend with your girlfriend?”

Steve couldn’t help but grin. “Really good.” Bucky snorted. “What?” he protested.

“Nothing. I just happen to know that look,” he replied with a smirk. “That’s an I-just-got-fu—”

“Buck!”

Bucky shrugged. “Just calling it like I see it,” he said. “So, you made sure she felt good?”

“Oh c’mon,” he groaned. Frankly he felt insulted at the implication.

“What? Lots of guys forget. And if you did, it’s my duty to you as your best friend, and also to women everywhere, to remind you that your girl’s orgasm is a priority.”

He narrowed his eyes and glared. “She felt good.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes,” Steve hissed, knowing his cheeks were red. “I’m not an idiot. And we’re not teenagers Buck.”

Bucky shrugged, unperturbed. “And you? It was good?”

“Amazing,” he admitted breathlessly before realizing he’d said it.

Steve watched as his friend’s smirk grew, eyes glimmering with glee. He slapped Steve on the shoulder.

“Anyway, it’s about time.”

Steve rolled his eyes and headed toward the sanctuary and privacy of his room. Steve took a long look around his newly painted room. No cracks. No fault lines to further agitate him during difficult nights. With the window opened, sunlight trickling in, and all corners of the room squeaky clean, he felt the difference. He looked around his mess of furniture and started to push it back against the walls. And suddenly, moving it, he decided to make changes.

He pushed his desk up against the window, where he had a decent view of the street below. He unpacked his duffel, tossing out the dirty clothes into his hamper and set his sketchbook and drawing pencils in neat array atop the desk. Once he was finished, he surveyed his work. The change in layout brightened his mood to match the brightness of his walls. The room suddenly felt airier, and opened up. And now the wall space next to his bed was calling for artwork.

He went back to his desk and flicked his sketchbook open, looking at the last page of a half drawn sketch of a sleeping Peggy. It made him smile. Suddenly struck with an idea, he opened his top drawer and pulled out a folder. He picked out a sketch, one of Peggy, and set it upright against the wall. It would do for now. Later he’d frame it, maybe even paint her in full color. It would be a start to his own decorating.

 

 _It’s so quiet without you_ , he texted her later that night from his bed.

_What’s that supposed to mean? Are you trying to tell me I snore?_

He grinned at his phone.

_Maybe._

_Rude._

_I miss you in bed with me too._

It was all another adjustment, from sleeping alone to coming home from work. In a single weekend of Peggy around the clock, he’d been spoiled. But rather than mope about it, especially knowing how busy Peggy’s week was going to be, he decided to keep busy himself. He started with getting to work on painting the lobby for his landlord as promised. He had a short workday so he headed to the hardware store for painters tape and a few gallons of paint. Then he set up shop with his brushes and rollers. He did the ceiling first, hoping to knock it out of the way, hoping to avoid paint dripping on any residents coming home from work or school.

He was about halfway done when the woman who lived in the first floor apartment came through with her daughter skipping through the lobby towards the mailboxes. She stopped short at the sight of Steve on his stepladder. She carried a bright pink backpack roughly the same size as her, and wore adorably sweet round glasses. She tilted her head up at him.

“Hello,” he smiled down at her.

“Hi! Why are you painting?” she asked.

“The landlord asked if I could make the lobby look a little nicer. I’m a painter. He’s going to get that buzzer fixed for us in return,” he replied, noticing her mother coming up behind the girl.

“Oh, the buzzer’s finally going to be repaired?” the woman asked sounding relieved.

Steve nodded at her. “I’ll make sure of it. Steve Rogers,” he introduced, wiping down his hand before offering it, “I live on the third floor.”

She introduced herself as Gina Hernandez, and her daughter Gabi.

“Does paint come in bright pink?” Gabi asked him.

“Sure does. You’d like that better than white huh?”

“Yes.” She shot him a toothy grin, teetering onto her tiptoes. “I want pink bookshelves all my adventure books. But I only have finger paint.”

The mother smiled apologetically at him and started to usher the girl around the corner to their door.

“You’re doing a great job,” Gina said with a smile. “Have a good day.”

He waved to both ladies and climbed back up his stepladder. But he couldn’t stop thinking about bright neon pink paint.

By the time Bucky had walked through the lobby, looking slightly surprised to see him painting, Steve was finishing up the last wall.

“You need help bringing anything up?” Bucky asked when Steve came up to clean his brushes in the sink.

“If you feel like it. You can grab the drop cloths and the step-ladder. I’ll grab the rest once I get my brushes clean.”

“Sure thing.”

While Steve went back to clean up, going out to toss the empty paint cans, he realized between the lobby and his bedroom, he’d had a lot of supplies left over.

“Hey Buck?” he called out into the living room. “I still have all paint left over. How about I fix up your room too?”

“Nah, you don’t have to. You work too many hours.”

“It wouldn’t take me that long,” he said with a shrug. He didn’t know how bad the walls were in Bucky’s room. He hadn’t been in there since the last time he had hauled a drunk Bucky to bed. That was months ago, he realized. “And I swear it’ll make a difference.”

He made a point of showing Bucky his room to show the results. He pointed to the spots that used to be full of cracks that no longer existed. Bucky seemed fairly impressed but he still hesitated.

“It’s really not a big project and I really wouldn’t mind,” Steve added. “I’d rather make good use of the paint.”

“Okay,” Bucky reluctantly relented.

He asked to see his room to check out the walls so he could estimate how long the work would take. Bucky’s room had a much different feel. It was dimmer, thanks to the curtain over his window, as well as the lamp and candles he used in favor of the overhead light. His laptop screen glowed against the wrinkled covers it rested on top of, and there was what looked like a stack of library books on the chair next to his bed. It was like finally getting a glimpse into Bucky’s day-to-day life he hadn’t realized he didn’t considered before. It made sense that he liked the room darker and warmer. And that he would have library books.

There were cracks same as there had been is his room, only Bucky’s were clustered around two walls from what he could tell.

“Think there’s some peeling paint behind my bed,” Bucky said while Steve was inspecting the walls.

He nodded. “It’s not so bad otherwise. Same as my room mostly. But it’ll be nice to get the yellowing paint off the walls.”

Bucky snorted. “Before it becomes anymore of a _The Yellow Wallpaper_ situation.” Steve looked over at him blankly. “It’s a story about a woman’s degrading mental health when she gets confined to her room.” Steve continued to blink at him. “We read it in high school. And I had it again in one of my college English classes. I think I just finally fully understood it for the first time.” He shook his head. “Anyway. So how long do you think it’ll take?”

“Two, three days tops.”

“Okay. But I want to help.”

“If you want to. But I swear Buck, it’s not that much work. Waiting for layers to dry is what’ll take the longest.”

Bucky seemed adamant, so he promised not to start without him.

 

“So, Buck and I are going to redo his bedroom same as mine,” he said passing the bag of snacks he brought into Peggy’s lap.

Peggy had a few hours to spare in between waiting for international calls, and was surprisingly easy to convince her to join him, on short notice no less, for a showing of Singing in the Rain in Bryant Park. She dug right into the popcorn and shifted on the blanket he brought to lean against his arm.

“Really?” she asked, still crunching through a mouthful of popcorn. He grinned and couldn’t help leaning in to kiss her. “Really Steve? We’re not birds.” He just kissed her again as she giggled. She swatted at his arm. “Well good, I’m glad you’re doing the same for him.”

“Yeah. I thought it was a good idea. And he wants to help.”

“So how’s he doing? Alright?”

Steve nodded, grabbing himself a handful of popcorn. “I think he’s been doing better. He seems less agitated. At least around me.”

She hummed. “You should have invited with along tonight. I still haven’t managed to meet him you know.”

“Oh,” he replied. “I should’ve asked. He was home tonight too.”

“I suppose it’s a little late now. Next outing, you should invite him.”

“Will do.”

She nodded, returning her attention to Gene Kelly and Debbie Reynolds. “Where’s he going to stay while you air it out?”

“Oh… I’m not sure actually.” He had forgotten about it, and if he had forgotten, it probably hadn’t occurred to Bucky at all. He supposed the couch would make do. Or Bucky could take his bed and he’d bunk up on the couch for a few nights. Or… There was another idea that struck him as infinitely preferable. Although he supposed it wouldn’t be fair to ask. “I could offer to let him sleep in my bed,” he said.

Peggy looked over at him and quirked an eyebrow knowingly at him. “Oh?”

“Maybe I could come spend a night or two at your place?”

“I suppose you wouldn’t put me out,” she said with a grin. “I’m not sure what my hours are going to be like, but you’re still welcome to share my bed.”

“If you’re sure it won’t be a bother.”

“Coming home to my boyfriend curled up in my bed? I think that’s the opposite of a bother.”

He could feel his face flushing with pleasure.

 

It was nice to be working on walls in the summertime when the natural light persisted long into the day.

“Oh, so you shouldn’t stay in here while we work,” Steve told Bucky as they finished covering all his furniture. “But you can stay in my room.”

“Yeah? And where are you gonna be? The couch? I can take the couch.”

“Actually, I was thinking I might spend the night out…”

“Ohhh.” Bucky smirked knowingly. “You’re spending another night at your girlfriend’s? Wait, did you want to paint my room as an excuse to have another sleepover with her?”

“Don’t need an excuse, just happens to be a fringe benefit,” he replied. “Anyway, Peggy had a similar idea when I told her.” Bucky snorted. “By the way, she said you should come out with us sometime.”

“What and be a third wheel?”

“No,” he replied, rolling his eyes and handing him a scraper, “just so you two can finally meet.”

They worked on opposite sides of the room and continued randomly talking about their days, Peggy, Bucky’s family, and memories of their running around the city as kids and later as teenagers. The work was just as enjoyable as it had been with Peggy, and the more they scraped, the more Steve was glad they were doing it. He was glad Peggy ever suggested repainting. He’s glad to be working on something with Bucky again. And he thought, that maybe, symbolically at least, this could start a new chapter of their adulthood. Starting over, starting fresh. Anything could happen. After all, cracks could be smoothed out, and a dull wall could always get a glossy finish.

 

The following day, when they actually started applying the white paint, Bucky yelped. He dropped his roller to the ground, and hissed as he grabbed at his left shoulder. Steve set down his own roller and hurried over to his side.

“Are you okay?”

Bucky remained hunched over in pain, eyes squeezed shut and it takes him a minute to reply. “

“Damn it,” he said through gritted teeth, punching the floor with his right fist.

“Buck?”

“I’m fine!”

Steve uncovered part of Bucky’s bed and sat him down.

“Do you need a pain pill?”

Bucky managed a nod through the obvious pain. Steve rushed into the bathroom to bring him back his medicine.

“Why don’t you take off your prosthetic?”

“I’m fine,” Bucky growled. He swallowed the pill and started over back for his paint roller. “I must have overdone it at the gym yesterday.”

He wasn’t convinced. “Buck, take a break. Just relax your shoulder.”

“I can finish,” he said defiantly.

Steve sighed. “I know. But you don’t have to.”

“We said we’d do this together.”

“And we are. But there’s no reason to be stupid about it. Seriously, Bucky. I’m not asking. Lay down.”

He glowered at him, but didn’t fight the order. Steve wasn’t sure why Bucky felt the need to push through, especially on something as dumb as painting. He couldn’t believe that Bucky would think he was letting him down by sitting it out and taking care of himself. But the more he thought about it, the more Steve considered that was exactly it.

As for Bucky not taking off his prosthetic as a point of pride, that Steve wasn’t too sure about. He’d gone weeks without a prosthetic those early days in New York. He’d been on a military waiting list to receive his prosthetic. He knew Bucky was a little sensitive about his metal arm, but he supposed he thought it was only with strangers.

Barely five minutes passed of Bucky rubbing furiously at his shoulder before he started for his abandoned roller.

“Buck,” he scolded. “I got it. Seriously.”

Bucky sighed. “I didn’t mean for you to end up doing all of this on your own.”

“I didn’t,” he pointed out. “Anyway, painting’s my thing. Remember?” He hoped the light comment might shake Bucky out of any misguided guilt.

Only Bucky didn’t smile, he just sighed heavily again. “Flowers and ladies maybe. You weren’t supposed to be painting rooms white,” he replied bitterly.

Steve bit his lip, his strokes slowing. True, he had never thought this was where he would end up, especially not once he joined the army. But he needed a job, and this was the one that would take him and also pay the bills.

“The job’s okay Bucky,” he said after a few minutes.

“Yeah, but it was supposed to be temporary,” Bucky replied, still rubbing at his arm. “It’s been what six months with Miller? And now you’re painting our rooms and the lobby downstairs.”

“So? I actually like this part. I like being having a skill that can help others. Our rooms were miserable looking. And I can paint. So I wanted to paint. For you too. It’s because of painting with Miller, I even started painting for fun again. And I met Peggy painting. It’s not all bad. It’s not what I expected, but I can make something out of it Buck.”

“I used to be able to help you. I was your right hand man.”

Steve stopped painting to meet his friend’s eye. “Still are Buck. We’ve always had each other’s backs. Remember when you had to beat up guys for me pretty much every day in junior high? I couldn’t help you with that then.”

Bucky cracked a grin. “Only ‘cause you wouldn’t ever back down from a fight, not if you were doing it for some noble reason.”

Steve rolled his eyes, but smiled. “You never backed down either. Not while I was around.”

“’Cause you were a little punk.”

“Thanks, jerk.”

He took his time leaving for Peggy’s that evening, making sure that Bucky was comfortable in his room. Steve brought in Bucky’s stack of pillows from his bed, and made sure to close the blinds for him. They ate together since Peggy had a dinner meeting anyway, and then finally, after asking Bucky at least a dozen more times if his arm was okay, and if he’d be okay for the night, Steve finally made his way to Peggy’s apartment.

She wasn’t home yet when Steve made it up, so he fished out the key she had given him and let himself in. It felt strange. In a good way. He headed toward her bedroom to drop off his duffel. Then, he headed for the living room, flipping the TV to Netflix, while he settled on the couch with his sketchbook.

A delicate touch to his hair caused his eyes to open. Peggy was hunched over the back of the couch smiling at him. He must have drifted off.

“Hey,” he said in a raspy voice. “Is it late?”

Peggy’s warm voice let out a laugh. “Eight forty-five.”

Steve smiled sheepishly. “Oh. I… have no excuse.”

“That’s quite alright darling,” she said brushing her hand through his hair once more. “I’m just happy to see you, sleepy and all.”

His heart thudded against his ribcage. Yes, it was good to be welcome and comfortable in Peggy’s home.

“Come Steve, let’s go to bed.”

“Before nine?”

She smiled. “You can cuddle while I finish up some emails.”

He grinned and jumped up off the couch. It was just what he needed. He watched Peggy change from against her pillows. No longer feeling sleepy, he flipped to a blank page of his sketchbook and started to draw while Peggy finished up her routine in the bathroom. She picked up her laptop off the bedside table, and settled against her headboard, reaching a hand over to play with his hair for a moment. He shifted over until their shoulders touched. The sound of the keys clicking as she typed was a soothing soundtrack to his sketching.

“What are you drawing?”

Peggy’s question broke his reverie and he had only then noticed that her laptop was put away. He had been drawing an old familiar street in Brooklyn, one he had loitered on for hours with Bucky.

“Oh,” he shifted the sketchbook closer to her, “it’s Bucky and me when we were kids. This was one of our favorite hangouts as kids. There was this old movie theater that’s condos now right next to this amazing Italian bakery. Sometimes, the woman who owned it had leftovers at the end of the night. We’d offer to sweep her floors. She’d send us home with boxes of cookies. We’d sneak them into late movies.”

Peggy chuckled. “I’d like to see that. You should continue that. Make a series for me.”

He smiled up at her. “Really?”

She nodded. “I want to see all the stories of young Steve causing trouble with his best friend.”

“Only if I hear more stories about you at that all girls’ school.”

Peggy made a face and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what my parents expected given that my brother was just as naughty and he was my role model.”

Steve grinned and kissed her arm where he could reach. He set his sketchbook away. “You promised me cuddles.” He rolled onto his side, and easily slid against her body. “How was your dinner thing? Long or just a late dinner?”

She huffed, reaching out to press her palm against his back. “Just long. Out of towners. Had to do a bit of the ol’ New York show and dance.”

“Show and dance, huh? Do tell.”

She chuckled, kissing him sweetly. “It’s just a pain.”

“Schmoozing?”

“Yes,” she punctuates with a sigh. “It’d be different if this was the business world, but as it’s a little more precarious than that—”

“Saving the world you mean?” he interrupted.

She raised her eyebrow in warning. They never did discuss the particulars of her job. Not that it was necessary. He did understand, better than most. It was hard to talk to anyone about his own old missions, given that so many were classified. Still, the tidbits and anecdotes did make for interesting conversation, if always very vague

 

“Where are you off to?” Bucky asked Friday afternoon when Steve came home to change into nicer clothes. “Another date?”

Steve grinned. “We’re going to MoMA since it’s open late. You wanna come?”

Bucky made a noncommittal noise. “It’s crowded as hell on free days.”

“True. But she’s never been, and she happens to be free so… You should come. We could get Halal Guys afterwards.”

“Third wheel it while you guys walk all cutesy between galleries?” He made a sound that reminded Steve a lot of schoolboys complaining about cooties. “No thanks.”

“You won’t be a third wheel. We’re just gonna look at art. With hundreds of other people.”

“Nah. Go. Talk her ear off about _The Starry Night_ or the _Water Lilies_ or whatever. Show off your incredible knowledge of brush strokes,” Bucky joked, seeming to amuse himself.

“You sure? It’ll be fun.”

“Go, be romantic. I’m cool. Really.”

“You should really join us. You still haven’t met Peggy.”

“Maybe when you guys aren’t doing something so blatantly dateish,” he said making a sour expression with an accompanying sound of disgust.

 

A few days later, Steve invited him to join him and Peggy to beat the heat with a movie.

“A movie?!” Bucky scoffed. “Hell no am I sitting next to you in a dark room, ready to make out with your girlfriend the second the previews are over.”

“Uh, that’s you not me. I like watching the movies.”

Bucky shook his head. “No way. Way too date-like. That would be really unfun for me.”

Steve shrugged and jogged off so as to not be late.

 

Incessant ringing cut through the dark bedroom.

“Peg?” he slurred in his sleep, unwinding his arms from around her waist. “Work?”

She groaned back at him. “Your phone not mine,” she said just as sleepily.

Her words barely made sense, his head fuzzy, but when he looked over at his bedside table, it was lit up. He blinked his eyes into focus and reached out for his phone. His stomach dropped and his heart started to race.

“It’s Bucky!”

Peggy immediately sat up and turned on her lamp, looking wide awake.

“Buck? Is everything okay?” he said into the phone.

“Hey Steve,” he heard Bucky slur, barely coherent. “I um… Shit. Shit Steve. Need you to get me.”

Steve felt a chill run through him. He swung his legs off the bed already grabbing clothes. “Where are you?”

“This bar… Didn’t even… barely anything. Blurry. Dunno why. Bad reaction.”

“Where are you Bucky?”

Bucky finally managed to slur out the name of the bar. “Don’t feel good Steve.”

“I’m on my way. Don’t move. Okay? I’ll be there soon.”

“What’s going on?” Peggy asked him as he threw on his shirt.

“I need to get Bucky. He sounded really drunk, but something was wrong about it. He’s never called me to come get him before.”

“I’ll go with you,” Peggy said.

“No,” he replied. “I appreciate that really, but I don’t think Bucky will respond well to meeting you for the first time in this state.”

He watched her bite her lip. “What can I do then?” she asked. “I’ll order you a ride there.”

He wanted to tell her that wasn’t necessary but she was already tapping away at her phone. So he pulled on his jeans, stuck his keys and wallet into his pocket and sighed deeply, scrubbing a hand over his face.

He felt Peggy’s arm wrap around his waist.

“It’ll be here in four minutes,” she murmured. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

He shook his head. “I got this, really. But thanks Peggy.” He managed a weak smile for her when she squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry about this. ‘Bout waking you.”

She shook her head and kissed him. “Please let me know when you two get home.”

He nodded seriously at her request.

 

The dive bar was full and rowdy, and Steve was surprised that Bucky wasn’t caught up in the middle of it. Instead, he spotted him sitting in a corner, rocking a bit back and forth, eyes glazed, and his right hand digging into his left shoulder.

“Bucky,” he said calmly to get his attention.

He grinned up at Steve, liquor soaked and unfocused. The plastered grin fell in a split second.

“Steve!” He gritted his teeth and squeezed his eyes shut. “Summin’ ain’t right.”

He nodded patiently. “Let’s go home Buck.”

“Gotta pay my tab. I think. Whaz the time?”

Steve stood from the table. “I’ll pay the bill. Stay here. I’ll be back in a second.”

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Shit Steve.”

Steve walked over to settle the bill and then slung Bucky’s arm around his shoulder. He managed to quickly hail a cab, getting Bucky into the car with almost no trouble. The ride was mostly quiet, Bucky with his cheek pressed against the cab window, Steve spread out on the seat ready to brace him in the case a bump caused Bucky to fall over or possibly throw up.

“Fuck. You were with your girl?” Bucky slurred. “Cock blocked? You were getting it on.”

“It’s fine, Buck.”

“Liar. Peggy’s probs pissed. At me. She doesn’t know me. Can’t meet me now.”

Steve sighed. “Shut up Buck. She’s not mad. And you still have to meet her.”

“’Kay. Sorry I took you from your girl.”

“I’m glad you called.”

Bucky seemed mostly sleepy by the time they made it back to the apartment, docile for the most part, unlike his usual angry mannerisms while intoxicated. That was unnerving. He led Bucky into his room, going out to get him a glass of water and coming back to find him already passed out. Relatively sure that everything was okay for the night, especially when Bucky immediately started to snore, Steve crawled into his bed.

 _Got Bucky home. Everything’s okay. Hope you’re sleeping_ , he sent to Peggy.

_Glad you’re both okay. I’ll talk to you in the morning._

Steve couldn’t sleep. He folded his hands behind his head and stared up at the ceiling. It was the first time he’d done so since he had redone his room. There were no cracks to study, nothing to draw his attention, only smoothness. He wondered if Bucky had been going out a lot again. He wondered if there were other nights that he barely managed to make it home. He wondered what made him call tonight. Mostly though, he was glad that he did call. He was glad he thought to. That he trusted Steve to call.

Still, it didn’t stop his worrying.

He slept only a few hours, waking early to make sure he caught Bucky before he left for the day. He pulled out his sketchbook, made a pot of coffee and parked himself on the couch. He drew haphazard lines, page after page, vague skylines, occasional vantage points that he remembers from nights on base. He scrawled more lines, erasing just as many.

Bucky finally strolled into the kitchen yawning and clutching at his forehead, nodding vaguely at Steve.

“Can we talk about last night?” Steve asked, after following him in the kitchen. Bucky stopped pouring his coffee, refusing to meet his eye. “I just want to know if you’re okay.”

Bucky nodded slowly. “I didn’t go out to get drunk. I only had a couple drinks. But something’s screwy with my shoulder, and I took this new medicine, and I forgot that I did… You’re not supposed to drink with it. It can cause weird brain things. And it did. Probably ‘cause my brain’s already screwy.” He sighed. “I couldn’t get myself to move. Felt like I was high as a kite. And terrified at the same time. So I ordered a stronger drink. Which was stupid. And then I didn’t know what to do.”

“So you called.”

“Yeah,” he agreed. “I really am sorry about interrupting your night.”

“I told you it was okay last night, and it still is,” Steve told him. “I’m sorry about your arm Buck.”

He visibly stiffened, and the sight surprised Steve.

“Nothing to be sorry for Steve.”

“Buck—”

“Nothing. Everything fucking sucks. But it’s not your fault. Okay?” Bucky said. “You’re my best friend. ‘Til the end of the line.”

Steve sighed. It was easy to hear it wasn’t his fault, and it was even easy to believe it. But still… Moments came where he couldn’t shake the cold ice forming in his gut.

Steve smiled faintly. “Until the end of the line,” he repeated back. “How’s your head?”

“Killer.”

“And your arm?”

“Ten times worse than that. But I took an extra strength Tylenol and not that new stuff, so it should help soon enough.”

“Okay,” he replied meekly.

Bucky grabbed his shoulder. “Thanks for coming to get me.”

“I’m glad you called.”

 

“How’s Bucky?” Peggy asked during their phone call on his way to work. He told her about his bad medicinal reaction, and how despite how worried he was, at least he had called. “And how did you sleep?” she asked afterwards.

Steve sighed. There’s no point denying it. “Not so well,” he told her. “Missed you,” he continued quickly, as if it would deter the conversation.

She hummed knowingly. “Nightmares?”

“None that I remember. Just couldn’t fall asleep.”

“Okay. Well, try to take it easy today, okay?”

He easily agreed. “Can I come by later? My stuff’s still at your place.”

“Of course. I may be home late.”

That night, he fell asleep on her couch again while waiting for her. He jerked awake an hour later from a nightmare. Sweat poured down his forehead. Thankful Peggy wasn’t home to witness it, he jumped into the shower, hoping the icy water might clear his head. He woke from a second nightmare in the middle of the night while Peggy’s arms were around him. After her soothing words and touch, he squeezed his eyes shut until he finally fell asleep.

He knew he’d been walking in a daze for a few days, tired from lack of sleep, and a little quiet. When he hadn’t been holed up in his own room, he’d spent time in Peggy’s room waiting for her to come home from work. He was fine. Just tired and plagued with headaches.

“There’s something I wanted to tell you,” Peggy told him one night in her kitchen. “And I want you to keep an open mind.”

“Okay?”

She set down a brochure in front of him. He recognized the VA logo immediately, and his mouth opened to respond but nothing came out.

“I’ve been working on something with the VA,” she told him. “Remember that conference I went to in D.C.? I told you not all of it was a waste of time. I met this incredible trauma counselor. He gave a talk about PTSD, and different resources available in ensuring that employees at risk were getting their needs met. I enjoyed his presentation so much I went to talk with him afterwards. He’s an Air Force veteran himself. We talked for a long time. I asked for his help on this conference. He’ll be hosting a lot of it along with some colleagues. I wanted you to consider attending.”

He glanced back down at the brochure. For whatever reason, it made his hands shake.

“I’ve been doing okay,” he whispered. It was sort of true. The nightmares had mostly stopped.

Peggy touched his wrist. “I just want you to consider it. There’s a lot of great resources out there, lots of programs I hadn’t even heard of before. I just think if nothing else it’s just something different.”

He shrugged stiffly. “Maybe.”

“Okay,” she replied carefully. “No pressure. I just wanted you to know about it. It’s open to all veterans, free of charge,” she said. “I’ve encouraged my employees to attend at least one event. So if you wanted to tell anyone about it…” She bit her lip. “Are you upset with me?”

“No,” he replied, “no I’m not upset Peggy. This is… Really cool. It’s cool that you thought of helping to organize something like this.”

She smiled faintly. “It’s been in the back of my mind for a while. Like I said, I really connected with that counselor, and it was cathartic talking with him. I just wanted others to have the ability to experience that.”

“Okay.” Steve nodded, trying to focus on the brochure. “Maybe I’ll go.”

 

Steve slipped into the conference room just as a cheerful man was telling everyone to move their chairs into a circle, moving his computer from the podium at the head of the room to his lap in a chair within the circle. Everyone else had already chosen seats, so Steve squeezed between them to an empty chair near the corner. The man smiled and introduced himself to the group.

The room seemed to burst in cheerful exhales at the end of the presentation, the mood lively compared to its somber beginning. Steve completely understood what Peggy had seen in this counselor. He was compassionate, gentle and observant. And Steve felt… lighter.

He walked over toward the man, waiting as he finished a conversation with another person.

“Hey,” he said in a friendly voice to Steve. “Thanks for joining the group,” he said extending his hand.

“Thanks for your talk Mr. Wilson.”

He chuckled. “Sam. And I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Steve Rogers,” he introduced. He noticed the flash of recognition in Sam’s eyes.

“Ah, I heard I might run into a Steve Rogers,” he said with a friendly smile. “It’s nice to meet you Steve. I’m glad you came out today.”

Steve played with the schedule in his hands. “I’m glad I did too. I noticed you’re having another presentation tomorrow. Will it be similar to the one today? I was hoping I might be able to convince a friend to come.”

Sam nodded. “It’ll be similar. You should definitely encourage your friend to come. Sometimes it helps others to not come alone the first time. Sometimes we don’t realize we’ve placed ourselves into bubbles that only get harder to escape as time passes.”

That was exactly what he had realized listening to Sam talking openly and frankly about his own difficulties returning to civilian life.

“I know exactly what you mean.”

“Are you going to stick around?” Sam asked.

Steve nodded, opening up his schedule. “I thought I might try the art therapy group.”

“Those are some great people. And artists. You like art?”

“I paint and draw,” he admitted. “A little.”

“Cool. I can’t draw for shit outside of stick figures, but they do lots of other cool projects too.” Sam gathered his laptop, turned off the lights to the now empty room and then gestured down the hall with an easy grin. “Come on, you can show me up with your artistic ability.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Subtitled: The-Never-Ending-Chapter  
> Seriously, I do not know how this chapter had run away from me and become the longest thus far, when I meant to have it done all short and quick. But it does contain some of what I intended to be the original end to this fic, so it's been fun to finally bring it about. I hope you enjoy it.  
> On another note, we're coming to the end. I have two more real chapters to go, and an epilogue/coda planned to round off this fic.

 

**“A painting requires a little mystery, some vagueness, and some fantasy. When you always make your meaning perfectly plain you end up boring people”**  
**― Edgar Degas**

 

 

“So, did I tell you?” Steve asked while they both worked on a salad to go with their takeout. He had insisted they add something healthy to the mix, especially once she mentioned she’d been living on leftovers at work during all her late nights and early mornings. “Bucky got a new therapist.”

“He did?” she asked, sneaking bits that were meant to go into the salad bowl. It wasn’t her fault she was starving and their delivery was taking forever. “Good for him.”

“Yeah. He’d been complaining about the guy for a while. They just didn’t connect. When he mentioned it to Sam, he wouldn’t let Bucky waste good opportunities on useless appointments. It worked.”

“Yes, Sam’s good at that,” she said with a smile. “Speaking of Bucky, how about we try for dinner this week? He could pick the restaurant. Or bar.”

“No bars,” Steve replied firmly.

“Right,” she said. “No bars. But anywhere.”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll ask him,” Steve said, nodding as he added onions to the bowl. “So Sam recommended someone. Bucky’s gone twice this week. He said the new therapist was okay. From Bucky, about therapy, that’s high praise.”

“Well, good. I’m glad he finally found something that’s working better for him. I’m so glad you were able to convince him to go to Sam’s talk.”

Steve sighed and set aside his knife. “He’s been… I can’t explain it. He feels more like the Bucky I grew up with. Obviously neither of us can take back the past, but I don’t know… It just feels right again.” She leaned over to squeeze his hand. “Did I mention how grateful I am that you set that thing up with Sam?”

Peggy smiled at the earnest praise. “Yes, Steve. You mentioned it several times. Even after I reminded you that you didn’t need to thank me. I’m just glad you found the event useful.”

“Course I did. It was so well put together, thanks to you.”

“Thanks darling, but I only set out the larger scheme. Sam and his colleagues did all the heavy lifting.”  
“I dunno. Sam said you pulled out incredible funding sources on short notice and managed to get all but one program you wanted on the schedule,” he replied. “Besides, I love that the idea came to you in the first place. And you found a way to fund it so that thousands of vets could attend.”

“Thousands?”

“Yeah. Didn’t Sam tell you? He said that over the four days there was something like two thousand people.”

Since meeting, Steve and Sam Wilson had kept in touch. Between Sam’s talks and chatting during an art therapy demo, a spark of kinship reached between them. Sam had even went out for burgers and beer with Steve on one of his free afternoon’s before returning to D.C. It was easy to understand, with Sam’s easygoing personality and their similar military history. In fact, she was glad there was a connection at all. She had been worried that pushing Steve to the conference would cause friction, especially if he didn’t have a pleasant experience. She worried he’d read the invitation not as a supportive hand, but a judgment on his coping.

“Yes, yes I do remember something like that from his email.” Sam had sent her a very sweet thank you email once he’d returned to D.C. But it had been hard to keep track of even her work emails, as the priorities on her active missions board stacked up the past few days. She’d been pulling sixteen hour days too many days in a row.

“Two thousand,” Steve repeated. “That’s thanks to you Peg.”

She rolled her eyes even though she was fighting a smile. Steve of course, noticed, and specifically pulled her into his side and kiss her with a proud smile.

Her sixteen hour days grew longer, and she stopped even making it home most nights to sleep. First there was a potential security leak. Then came Thompson’s botched interrogation, causing massive blowback and paperwork for Peggy. And in the middle of that, they got another hit on HYDRA. Her hands were full.

When she did make it home, it was only thanks to Steve that she was able to relax for a short moment. He never failed to hold her tight when she walked right into his arms, and he was constantly jumping up to make her a cup of tea or heat up a quick meal. Both were nice, but what she sought the most was his touch. Sometimes, all she’d have time for was a quick nap on the couch, often in Steve’s lap as he rubbed her back. It was enough to prop her back up before heading back into the thick of it.

She hit her limit one evening after Thompson and a few of his lackeys who still believed that he deserved her promotion, called a meeting with the board that of course went nowhere because she is damned good at her job. Still the chauvinistic barbs made their mark, and stung more than she had expected. Sure, Thompson was an asshole, but she thought at this point, after months on her team, and the amount of ass-saving she had done on his behalf, he would have a shred of humility. Apparently she set her expectations too high.

That night instead of letting Steve be the one to fill the silence, she couldn’t seem to stop complaining.

“…and after all I’ve done for that ungrateful prat? How dare he?”

She couldn’t help fuming. She couldn’t do it at work. And it didn’t seem fair to call up a busy Angie just to complain. And Howard had already listened to her for ten minutes, which was ten minutes more than she had expected of him. Holding Howard’s attention for ten consecutive minutes was a mean feat for a woman he wasn’t trying to sleep with, or discussing one of his inventions. He’d been sympathetic, patted her on the arm and brought out a bottle of whiskey for her, but she was too angry to even want a drink. She just wanted to vent. And quite possibly to punch someone.

That left Steve, even though she had to edit out the classified details.

“I know Peg, he’s out of line.”

“And then to blame his mistakes on my sensitivity due to PMS?!” She growled, crossing her arms tightly. “Do you know how much I’ve done for him?”

Steve stood up from the couch and held out his palms. She stared at him blankly.

“Come on, up you get Carter,” he said with a lopsided smile.

“Why?”

“Because.”

“You’re doing nothing for my nerves Steven.”

He chuckled and led her into her bedroom, kissing the top of her head before telling her to lie down.

“Are you trying to shut me up by seducing me?”

“Maybe next time Peg,” he said, gently helping her to the middle of the bed. “Shirt off, and on your stomach.”

“Are you sure—”

“Massage, Peggy. I’m going to give you a massage so you can relax and stop stressing about you’re asshole coworkers for a few minutes.”

She grinned up at him, tossing her button down at him, which he easily caught and folded. “Have I mentioned how lovely you are today?”

“No, but I think it was implied in comparison to those jerks you work with.”

“You have no idea.”

While Steve padded into the bathroom, she decided to rid herself of the tight skirt too, slipping instead into her favorite soft jersey shorts. She unhooked her bra, but waited for Steve’s reappearance before setting it aside. He came back in with a towel, and her favorite body lotion, bless the man. She raised her eyebrow at him and then pulled her unhooked bra from her chest. Steve swallowed hard, but it didn’t take long for his gaze to settle at her eyes instead. She quirked her brow again, more purposefully.

“I thought I was supposed to be seducing you, not the other way around,” he said.

“Is it working?”

“Peggy,” he said in a particularly low tone that sent shivers down her spine. She slid her palms further behind her and bit her lip, batting her lashes innocently at him. Steve cleared his throat, making her grin, and then he frowned at her, which only amused her more. “I thought I told you to lie down on your stomach.” He propped his arm on his hip.

She snorted. “Yes, yes, alright, following your orders, _sir_.”

Lying down did feel heavenly. The moment her head hit the pillow, her eyes closed and she sighed in peace. She felt lips against her spine.

“You know you don’t have to do anything in particular to seduce me Peggy,” Steve murmured against her back.

She hummed lazily. “Apparently I do, if stripping for you didn’t work.”

He growled before pressing another kiss, higher up. “You _know_ that’s not true. And anyway, I think you need a massage more.”

She was about to protest, how could he think he knew better on what she needed more. The complaint melted away as Steve’s warm hands started a gentle trail down her shoulders. She immediately let out a little pleased sigh. She’d always admired his hands, drawn to his delicate and adept fingertips, and even more so when they pressed firmly into her shoulder blades. Tension she hadn’t realized she had been holding revealed itself, and she groaned as his fingers circled.

Steve hummed. “See? Told you that you were tense.”

Any remaining thoughts or complaints she had drifted out of reach. She focused on the circular motions, on the sensation of skin against skin.

 

 

Before she knew it, it was morning, or near enough. Four a.m. A few strips of light filtered in through the windows. Steve was lying next to her. She was still bare from the waist up. He had massaged her until she had literally fallen asleep. She eyed him fondly, studying him carefully in sleep as she often did. Her sweet boyfriend. She felt very loose and for once, well rested.

She could have gotten up and showered for an early start at work, but her falling asleep had cut her time with Steve short. Instead she curled into him, bare chest against bare chest, listening to Steve’s snuffles as he readjusted himself around her. She spent a good twenty minutes just enjoying the closeness before she forced herself out of bed and back to her daily grind, but not before pressing feather-light kisses to Steve’s cheek.

She’d been in her office an hour, getting plenty of work done in the relative peaceful early morning, at least for SHIELD standards, when Steve sent her a text consisting of a frowny face and a “miss you.” The idea of Steve waking up alone in her bed, trying to reach for her when she wasn’t there caused a strong sudden urge to march herself right back home and make good of a morning in bed with boyfriend. Of course, she couldn’t do that. Still… it was early, and she had knocked out a chunk of her day’s work already.

_If you make it in half an hour, I can squeeze in a quick breakfast with you before I have to head downtown for a meeting._

_I’ll be there!_

They met for bagels and coffee, both of which Peggy had already ordered by the time Steve stepped inside, his hair still damp. A smile bloomed on her face the second she spotted him. A few hours and she’d already missed him. She should feel silly, but then Steve smiled back and slid into the seat across from hers.

“Here,” she said, sliding over his bagel and coffee. “An ‘I’m sorry I fell asleep on you last night’ apology breakfast.”

Steve grinned. “You needed the sleep.” He took a big bite of his bagel. “And look, I got a free breakfast out of it.”

She swatted him. Once the bagels were finished, she insisted they take their coffees outside. She had a few more minutes to spare, and she didn’t want to leave his side just yet. Peggy tucked her free hand into the crook of his arm, and they set off on a slow walk in the direction of the subway stop Steve needed.

“I forgot to ask. Did you ask Bucky about dinner?” she asked once the subway stop came into view.

Steve made a noncommittal noise. “He said he’ll really feel like a third wheel if we all go out to dinner. Something about not wanting to feel awkward squished into a dark corner of a romantic restaurant with us.”

Peggy rolled her eyes. “It didn’t have to be anywhere fancy. For heaven’s sake we can go to the McDonalds in Time Square if he’s worried.”

“He avoids Time Square. Too many people. Too much stimuli.”

“Yes, of course.” She sighed. “My point was, neither of us is overly affectionate in public. He knows that right?”

Steve shrugged. “I told him. But he’s never seen us together, so…”

“Well remind him. Make sure you’re clear on the fact that he can pick any place he’s comfortable with.”

“I will,” he replied solemnly, stopping just short of the subway station to pull her into a hug. “We’ll figure it out. Thanks for breakfast.”

She leaned up to kiss him. “Thank you for the massage.”

 

 

They get used to dates at odd hours and every time Steve assured her it’s worth it, even to see her for a few minutes. She felt a surge of affection every single time he shows up.

Once, it’s an obscenely early breakfast at a 24-hour diner. It’s her dinner actually. She had told Steve she would be pulling a long night before going home for a nap sometime near morning. He specifically insisted they meet for coffee and food, no matter the hour. She thought it was a terrible imposition, but he insisted he’d be going to sleep early anyway so the early hour wouldn’t bother him.

At near half past four in the morning, they met in a booth, Steve wearing a hoodie and his work jeans, having already ordered her a cup of coffee. She threw her arms around him, snuggling into the cotton, the second they left the diner. Somehow, beyond all odds, she was able to be vulnerable with Steve, to let him hold her when she needed it. And to admit to that, to allow it, made a tremendous effect on her own mental health. He had taken her home, holding her up as she faded, and tucked her in before he headed out to his jobsite.

Another time it was a sugar break during his lunch break. Their date lasted all of twenty-two minutes before Peggy received an urgent call that sent her back to the office before she could even kiss him properly goodbye. Steve took all the odd dates with stride, always managing to cheer her up for at least a moment.

 

“Did you modify that tracker for Sousa?” Peggy asked Howard before their latest team meeting.

“Only in about ten minutes,” Howard huffed.

Only a Stark could be upset over how quickly a gadget or piece of tech could be developed. His smugness was irritating, sure, but when it came to engineering, he never let her down. However, for the sake of her wellbeing, she could never let him know that, for certainty of his ego getting stuck up his ass. Again.

“Great, I appreciate that Howard. It’s the last piece of prep before Sousa goes undercover.

He nodded absently, scratching at his moustache. “You really gotta give me something more substantial to work on Peg. It’s been a whole summer of easy fixes. I need something to sink my teeth into.”

She blinked, biting back a retort that would certainly send her down the rabbit hole of Howard’s romantic affairs, something she was keenly avoiding at all costs. Still… There was a lovely image in her head of Steve in her bed. And her couch. And shower.

“Believe it or not Howard, it is not my job to keep you amused. What happened to all those inventions your genius cannot contain?”

He pouted and crossed his arms. “All great artists have rough patches.”

She hummed knowingly. “And this has nothing to do with a certain rejection not that long ago.”

“Arlene did not reject me!” He scoffed. “Believe me. She knows exactly what she gave up.”

She made a face. “It’s been what, months? Move on. Why don’t you find a woman you can have a substantial conversation with? You want to be stimulated? Stop fooling around with dead ends.”

“See the fooling around bit is the best part.” He grinned saucily, and she did not find it amusing.

“Alright. Out,” she said with a point of her finger. “Out of my office.”

“Aw, come on Peg. You’re a woman I can have substantial conversation with.”

She rolled her eyes at his meek compliment. “And you always ruin it.”

He smirked at her. “You know you love me.”

 

 

She had a bit of a lull on an afternoon that Steve also happened to have free. They sat on a park bench, beneath a canopy of trees sipping iced coffees, while Steve told her that Bucky turned down the idea of dinner out for the second time.

“Is there some reason he doesn’t want to meet me?”

“I think he just feels weird about the situation. Buck and I weren’t so good up until a few weeks ago. And it’s the first time that I’ve had a girlfriend when he didn’t. So overall, all pretty new for both of us.”

Peggy bit her lip. “Which is part of the reason I think we should finally meet. Get it out of the way and get back to normal. I mean I don’t fancy flipping him off on the street somewhere and then finding out that’s how I met the most important person in your life two years down the road.”

Steve grinned so widely his cheeks seemed to burst.

“What?” she asked, hand on her hip, brow raised.

“Nothing,” he said innocently, his face betraying him.

“Okay that’s it. Dinner. We are having dinner. He does family dinners, then this will be a family dinner. He can’t object to that. Just the three of us, in my redone dining room. We will all even sit on different sides of the table. That way there will be no fraternization. And absolutely no mood lighting.”

“You’re going to cook?”

She crossed her arms, the raised brow reaching dangerous territory. “What are you trying to imply Steve Rogers?”

He grinned. “Just that you’re a very busy woman.”

She frowned. “Fine. I’ll get help. Now go tell him this is a mandatory invitation. And ask him what he wants to eat.”

“Are you sure this is okay Peg?”

“Yes I am sure Steven.” Her frown puckered deeper. “And tell him if he turns me down again, I am going to call his mother.”

He burst into laughter. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her hard, grasping the back of her neck to deepen it.

“Thank you,” he whispered in between kisses.

She cleared her throat. “You’re welcome.”

 

 

“Ms. Carter, forgive me for saying so,” Jarvis said, “but you seem quite…flustered. Can I be of any assistance?”

Peggy was waiting for Howard and their guest to arrive. One of his military contacts had agreed to talk about the HYDRA development, but opted for a more discrete location, and Stark’s penthouse was more than suited for his taste. In the meantime, she had been scrolling through her tablet for recipes.

She nearly growled. “I don’t see how I’m expected to have the patience for concocting a dinner.”

“Is this for some foreign dignitary?”

“No,” she barked, “it’s for meeting Steve’s best friend. They’re practically brothers, and I have yet to meet him and he’s already being difficult,” she complained with her arms crossed.

Jarvis perked up. “I’d be more than delighted to help you Ms. Carter! As you know, I have quite the discerning taste, particularly for dinner parties.”

“It’s nothing fancy Mr. Jarvis. It’s meant to be intentionally casual. Austere even. Apparently, it can have no discernable hint of romance, as to not upset the best friend.” She rolled her eyes. “Comfort food is the theme.”

“I have quite the talent for elevating mashed potatoes,” Jarvis said modestly.

She sighed, but then looked at her friend feeling more than a little stressed. “You really wouldn’t mind?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he said smiling. He immediately went to tie a flower-patterned apron around his waist, returning with his glasses on and a cookbook in hand. “Now, can I make a suggestion for dessert? I found a lovely recipe for chocolate cake in one of Ana’s new baking books. Simple but sheer heaven on a plate.”

Peggy bit her lip to keep from laughing, and hoped it didn’t show how excited she was at the prospect of homemade cake.

“That sounds perfect, really.” She sighed. “I just… This is really important to Steve, and as annoyed as I may be, I do want to make this as best as I possibly can.”

Jarvis nodded reverently. “A well-executed menu for a dinner party can make all the difference in the world. Not to worry Ms. Carter, we shall have a nice unfussy, casual dinner.”

“I would be endlessly grateful, Mr. Jarvis.”

He smiled triumphantly. “Does this mean I can take part in your next adventure?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “Well then I suppose, perhaps I can make a request instead?”

“What sort of request?”

“Well, Mrs. Jarvis and I will be celebrating our ninth wedding anniversary next month, and I have been figuring out my plans for a perfect gift. I was wondering if perhaps you could ask your gentleman if he’d be willing to paint me something especially for Ana. You see, I showed her the photos of your wall of poppies, and Ana just loved it so much. It reminded her of our honeymoon in Hungary. We had a lovely time in this beautiful cottage surrounded by fields of flowers.” Jarvis sighed a little at the memory, his face gone soft. “I would of course pay him. I only hoped to receive permission.”

“It’s up to Steve, but Mr. Jarvis, of course you can ask,” she said. “However I will happily nudge him to a yes,” she added with a smile.

“Oh, wonderful. Thank you Ms. Carter.” He picked up a pen and a little notebook from his pocket. “Now for the menu…”

 

 

The night before dinner, Peggy still have plenty she hadn’t managed to do earlier in the week. Even Jarvis helping with the cooking, didn’t seem to make her less stressed. She had forgone cleaning for too long, and all the household chores had stacked up. Luckily Steve was very agreeable in helping when he had come over to see her. He helped her set up to the perfect specifications, including helping her clear out her bar of any visible alcohol.

“If he doesn’t show—” she had said through gritted teeth, as she passed Steve another bottle to put away.

“Don’t worry, I need to go change at home so I will make sure Bucky doesn’t talk his way out of coming.”

She harrumphed with fierce indignation. She’d been in the kitchen way too long for her liking. Steve kissed her cheek.

“Have I mentioned that I’m really grateful for this even though you really did not need to go to all this effort?”

She leaned into his next kiss at her jaw. “I’ll be damned if this isn’t exactly as Bucky needs it to be. I refuse to allow any argument.”

“So,” Steve started as they set away her table cloth and china, “what do you do? I mean… Not… What do you tell people?”

She quirked her eyebrow at him. “Usually I work for the government does the trick.”

“But with people you know? That you like. That don’t already know you from work.”

She pondered, because the reality is that her work was isolating. Until Angie, there had been very few true friendships outside of the military, and SHIELD. Suddenly, staring at her boyfriend, a miracle of a boyfriend honestly, given how few people like him she even allowed herself to open up to, she realized she was coming to an age where the isolation was jarring. There were none of the natural friendships that came with other walks of life, like picking up a group while a schoolgirl in London. There was a reason women her age flocked bars knowing that at the very least it was an accepted ritual of trying to meet someone so you’d feel less alone, even for a night.

“I… Suppose it hasn’t come up in a while,” she admitted. Even with Angie, she had sort of been dragged into it. Besides, Angie was special, and the trust was implicit. “Governmental taskforce with a focus on domestic and international security,” she quotes, knowing it’s more a description than a title. “Benign enough, given the state of the world today. And wordy enough to be incomprehensible. Most everyone assumes I’m an office assistant or a low-grade analyst.”

“I don’t see how they could.”

She patted his cheek affectionately. “Not everyone has been along for the ride, Steve.”

He grinned brightly for a moment before dropping it in a façade of innocence. “I have no idea what you mean ma’am. I hear you’re an analyst.”

She snorted. “Well done darling,” she said. “I imagine your friend isn’t an idiot, but I’m sure you understand why I cannot outright tell him what I do.”

“I do. Really. Which is why I wanted to be on the same page beforehand.”

Steve leaned in with a serious expression. “Listen, Peggy,” he said, “if you ever need me for anything like that one night again… I know you have… resources. But if for whatever reason you’re short, please call. No questions asked.”

She bit her lip and stared at him. It was a very nice security blanket to have an ex-military boyfriend she knew she could call if she ever got into a mess. Not that she wanted to drag him into any of that again.

“Steve—”

“If there’s any outstanding circumstances,” he amended, cutting off her refusal. “I don’t expect you to need help. I just want to be clear that if you ever need it, I’m in.”

She bit her lip, but nodded. They returned to working in the kitchen, fixing up the things Jarvis wouldn’t be providing.

“So,” he said in a light tone, as if the seriousness hadn’t happened, “have you been to a baseball game yet? And a Yankees game doesn’t count.”

“I thought all you Yanks liked the Yankees,” she teased.

He held out the mixing spoon in his hand, pointing it seriously at her. “You are speaking blasphemy to a Brooklyn-born guy.” She couldn’t help but laugh at his serious tone. “That’s it. We’re going to a Mets game.”

“But I’m a Manhattan girl,” she said innocently, batting her eyelashes at him purposefully.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him making her shriek, warm lips kissing her the side of her neck.

 

 

Peggy had everything all set to go when Steve texted her that he and Bucky were on their way. As promised, she wore nothing that would allow Bucky to misconstrue the atmosphere, even though Steve promised Bucky understood the point of the dinner. She had changed out of her pencil skirt and blouse into jeans and a plain top. Just a casual meal of comfort food like mashed potatoes and mac and cheese.

Mostly though, she just hated the waiting. She was unused to hosting events in her loft, even if she certainly had the real estate for entertaining. For something that was meant to be low-key and unceremonious, it had become quite a production in its own way.

Finally, there was a knock at the door. She tucked her hair behind her ears, took a breath and headed to the door.

Next to Steve stood a man nearly as tall, with dark hair and a serious expression. He looked mildly uncomfortable but gave her a tight smile.

“Peggy, this is my best friend Bucky. Buck this is Peggy," Steve said with an easy grin, rocking back on his heels.

"It's nice to finally meet you Bucky," she said.

"Nice to meet you too," he replied politely, holding out his right hand for her to shake, though she noticed he seemed to be angling his left side away from her.

"Come in, come in," Peggy said, waving them inside.

Bucky shifted his hands into his pockets and took a look around. Peggy shared a look with Steve who nodded which she took to signal that everything was going okay.

"Nice place. Really nice," Bucky said.

"Thank you. Of course, I can't really take any credit for it. The owner recently ordered the remodel. I really had no say in the matter."

He nodded. "When Steve worked here you mean."

"Yes," she said, leading them further into the living room. "Shall we do a tour?"

"Sure," Steve said quickly. "You can show off the leaf you painted."

She rolled her eyes. "Or not. But, your work is lovely, I'm sure he'd like to see that."

Bucky followed them towards the wall of poppies. She even opened the door into her bedroom to show off Steve's handiwork in it as well. She finished the tour in the dining room, showing them to the table set with only basic dishware and nothing else, lest Bucky take a look at placemats or centerpiece and call her on it. While Steve and Bucky chose seats across from each other, Peggy headed back into her kitchen for drinks.

She didn't know what to make of Bucky, who hadn't talked much, and she wondered if she was making any sort of impression at all. She did find it interesting to see that he looked like he had taken more care of his appearance than either she or Steve had, looking much more put together in his short-sleeved button up than she did in her t-shirt. She'd have to ask Steve later if he did so on his own, or if Steve had urged him to do so. It oddly felt like a lot was riding on this meal, which unnerved Peggy more than any state dinner, or work-dinner she had ever attended.

The room wasn’t tense, exactly, but a bit stiff, and the conversation too polite. She kept looking carefully between the two men sitting on each side of her. She deliberated the appropriate tactic to lighten the mood.

It was once the mac and cheese had been doled out, and Bucky had taken a few bites that he was the one to break the silence.

“How’d you two meet exactly?” he asked.

“You know how,” Steve pointed out. “We met here.”

“Right. But like specifically?” he asked. “Because I have a hard time imagining you talking to her first.”

Peggy bit her lip trying to hide an amused smile that might embarrass Steve.

“Um… I mean in the elevator I guess. She was coming home from work.”

“That’s his side. I can’t say I noticed until he followed me literally to my front door, which you can imagine was odd, granted I didn’t know about the construction yet.”

Bucky nodded. “So when did you first talk?”

“That day. He came into my bedroom to start painting while I was packing up to stay elsewhere.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes. He was very polite, looked away while I packed my underwear.”

“I—But…” Steve sputtered.

Bucky snorted.

“I asked about the paint colors, making a joke about Humphrey Bogart naming them, and he replied with a Casablanca quote, and well, I guess we kept at it from that.”

She noticed that Steve was blushing furiously in his seat, and Bucky was smirking at him with mirthful eyes. She didn’t mind. This was much more enjoyable then the polite chatter about weather.

“So…” Bucky started, stabbing his fork into his chicken, and then using it to point between them, “how much do you hate his chinos?”

Peggy chewed, thinking. Something in his tone made everything suddenly clear to her. It might have been meant to be a casual meetup of two of the people he cared a lot about on Steve’s end, but for the girlfriend and the best friend, this meeting was a testing ground. And Bucky had just made that clear from his end.

She took a sip of her water and pointedly shrugged. “As long as Steve’s comfortable,” she said in her perfected casual breeze. It was clear Bucky was protective of Steve, that he was still worried about mean-spirited girls, echoes of rejections he’d faced in the past. She couldn’t fault him for his concerns, especially given how protective she was of him herself. “And his bum looks incredible in and particularly out of them, so…”

Steve coughed, while Bucky dropped his fork with a clattering sound against the ceramic plate. Bucky eyed her square in the eye, shock all over his face, and she quirked her eyebrow at him as if confused. Bucky’s amusement won out and he sniggered with a smirk. Steve had turned a bright blushing red.

“Alright there darling?” she asked casually. “Careful, the mac and cheese is particularly dense.” She patted his back. “Though, I have to be honest and say I’m fonder of his work jeans perhaps because they’ve had my attention for longer.” She turned her attention back to her own plate, pretending she didn’t see the looks exchanged between the boys.

_One for Ms. Carter_ , she thought to herself, having a hard time holding back a mirthful grin of her own. Instead, she slipped her hand momentarily over Steve’s knee for a squeeze, before picking up the napkin in her lap daintily.

“So what is it that you do? Steve was kind of vague,” Bucky asked.

“I work for the government. A nonprofit, if you wish, for certain contemporary challenges of our time.”

“Oh? Yeah?” Bucky asked, as if trying to gleam more from her words. “What challenges are you working on in particular?”

“Oh, international and domestic security, foremost. Organized crime syndicates and terrorist cells. Increased technological warfare capabilities. That sort of thing,” she said in just the same casual breeze as before.

It wasn’t false. And there were certainly think tanks and nonprofits that did such work. She just happened to work for an elite, secretive intelligence organization.

Bucky blinked at her looking shocked, at then took a long look at Steve, who was staring down at his mashed potatoes with a little too much interest. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Bucky looked back at her with a knowing expression.

“You’re kidding, right?” he said, but it seemed to be directed more so at Steve.

Steve looked up from his plate with a neutral smile, shot a quick glance at Peggy and then focused back down at his plate.

Let it be known, that Peggy Carter was not one to discount Bucky as any sort of idiot. Not with his history. She arched her brow at him, daring him to continue in his inquiry. Bucky swore under his breath, reached for his glass of water and took a big gulp.

“No wonder you like her,” Bucky finally said.

Steve blushed at that.

“Well, I’m quite certain he likes me for lots of reasons. There’s a quite a few just at the top of my head,” Peggy replied, swilling her own drink.

Bucky let out a laugh. “Oh, I can guarantee that,” he said. “He’s an all or nothing guy.”

Yes, that was exactly what Steve was. And that was exactly how she liked it. She’d never been one for doing things by halves herself.

“We share that quality,” Peggy said.

Bucky directed a grin at her and then, he reached his glass across the table to clink it against hers. Whatever test he had been giving her, she was pretty certain she just passed it.

The conversation flowed from there, everyone’s sitting position far more relaxed, as Peggy asked about how the two of them had met all those years ago in Brooklyn. Peggy felt pretty good about the whole dinner, the stress of it having melted away, especially once the table flooded with laughter from all three of them. She reveled in stories of Steve’s scraps over dessert, mentally noting that Bucky took an extra slices of cake, information she knew would please Jarvis. There was an ease, a comfort, and she had never been so pleased to see Steve smile.

But then she heard a knock at the door. She craned her neck toward the door and looked on in confusion, as if staring at it would tell her who was on the other side.

“Excuse me,” she said, standing from the table. “I can’t imagine who that could be.”

She made the mistake of not checking the peephole first.

“Good, you’re here,” Howard said, forcing himself inside. “Rose said you had some sort of previous engagement, and you weren’t in the conference rooms. Anyway, so I just had the greatest idea for implementation of that microscopic surveillance equipment you wanted, and oh boy let me tell you—”

“Howard!”

“—it’s definitely some of my best work. Honestly, they should give me a medal. Oh wait they have.” Howard had barged right through to her bar. “Well, I could use another. But imagine if this time they set it in the alloy that I developed. Now that would be—” Howard stopped his rifling when he couldn’t seem to find any alcohol. “Damn Peg, you finished that single-malt scotch I left you? What about the whiskey?” He swung around and froze, looking confused when not only was he looking at her, but also at the dining table where Steve and Bucky sat.

“As you can see,” she started with an irritated sigh, “I’m a bit busy, as Rose say I had a prior engagement.”

“Who are they?” Howard asked bluntly.

She bit her lip, further irritated. Howard stared at them, and she noted that his gaze seem to linger on Bucky. His prosthetic in particular. “This is Steve and Bucky,” she introduced tersely. “Now if you don’t mind—”

“Howard Stark,” he introduced himself with a booming voice and smile, “although I’m sure you already knew that.”

He skirted around Peggy, and marched right over to the table, standing right next to Bucky.

“Howard Anthony Walter Stark! Stop right this instant.”

She wasn’t pleased when he completely ignored her. He went on examining a silent Bucky with a critical eye, muttering out specifications and commentary.

“This is what the U.S. Military gave you?” Stark clucked without preamble.

Peggy was further horrified when he poked Bucky’s metal prosthetic, shooting an apologetic look at Steve. She could plainly see Steve’s nervousness.

“How’d you know?” Bucky asked before Peggy could make it close enough to Howard to snag him by the collar of his shirt.

“The sub-par design,” Howard poked at two points of Bucky’s arm, “and the signature marks of lack of brain power. Always skimping. It’s obviously not even a good fit. Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?”

Bucky looked at him with wide eyes before nodding. “Yeah.”

“No kidding.” Howard let out a derisive, self-satisfied grunt. “Where’d you serve?”

“Afghanistan. Both of us. Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers of the 107.”

Howard nodded but remained focused on the prosthetic. “Say, what do you know about robotics?”

“Only what I’ve seen from your TED talk,” Bucky replied.

“You watch TED talks?” Steve blurted out looking incredulous.

Howard grinned while Bucky shot Steve an offended glance. “Good, wasn’t it?”

“Pretty awesome stuff,” Bucky admitted.

“That’s just the beginning, pal.” Howard turned back to her, smirking, no wonder with his ego just stroked, and remained unperturbed by her mutinous expression. “Peg, why didn’t you send him immediately my way? Now _this_ is a project.”

She gaped at him, furious and embarrassed. Without letting him say another word, she grabbed Howard’s arm, wrenching him out of reach of Bucky. She ignored his yelps, dragging him out of the room, and out of sight of Steve and Bucky.

“Barnes is not a project,” she hissed under her breath, still clutching his shirt, shaking him.

“Whattya talking about? He’s perfect!” Howard said, brushing himself off once she released him. “I’ve already got the best idea, and like three possible prototypes in mind for him that are leagues ahead of what he’s got right now. He’s a good candidate for some testing.”

“Howard,” she enunciated, “he’s a soldier who received that injury under a great deal of trauma. Try to have an ounce worth of human compassion. He’s not some test subject.”

Howard looked at her like she had just been speaking a foreign language. “You’re making no sense at all Peg. You’re the one who told me I needed a real project to focus on. This is it.”

“I said that months ago, when you were still wallowing in your bruised ego! And this is not what I meant!” she told him, careful to not raise her voice.

“What’s the matter? I thought the other guy was your boyfriend. So what’s the issue?”

She gritted her teeth. “How do you know Steve’s my boyfriend?”

He smirked. “I am a genius.” She grabbed him by the ear and tugged. It made him yelp. “You realize my security system at my penthouse is far above all the commercial shit, right?” Peggy blanched, only making his smirk grow. “Enjoyed the dip in my pool?”

“Howard!”

“So a Captain, huh?” He proceeded to wink suggestively at her, making her cross her arms. “Anyway, that’s a totally sanctioned Howard Stark move. Only next time might I suggest skinny dipping? I mean that’s why I have the temperature control.”

“Stark shut your mouth before I do it for you.”

“And,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken, “you should invite me next time. Since it’s my place and all. We can throw a party. Invite A-listers. Get it catered. And Jarvis can make his famous gin martinis.”

“Howard I swear—”

“Relax! I already scrubbed it. Didn’t happen.” He sighed. “So. Back to my project since he’s not your boyfriend.”

“Listen,” she hissed. “I just met Barnes. Today. Right now. That’s what this dinner was. You have no idea about Steve and Bucky’s military history. They have PTSD. They’re adjusting. You can’t just make Bucky be your project.”

Howard shrugged. “Sounds like it’s his decision to make. It’s his arm. Let’s go find out.”

He ran back into the dining room before Peggy could catch him.

“So what you think, pal? You’re a perfect candidate for my prototypical StarkTech prosthetics. Give me a couple weeks, and we can be making breakthroughs.”

“I’m in,” Bucky said without hesitation.

“Buck—” Steve tried to say.

“On one condition,” Bucky told Howard.

“Name it.”

“I’ll do all the testing you want. But once you’re done tinkering, I want you to figure out how to provide the same technology to all the kids and soldiers who need it.”

Howard grinned. “Free of charge you mean? I do like a good challenge. Deal.” He reached out to shake Bucky’s hand, and then insinuated himself in an empty seat, turning his attention to Steve. “So, you and Peggy huh?”

Peggy grabbed him by the scruff of his neck. “Out.” She tugged him out of the chair, hearing Bucky snort.

“Aw, Peg. Not even some dinner? What kind of hostess are you?”

“No,” she said, dragging him out of the room. “You were not invited. Goodbye Howard.”

“I’ll have my people call your people,” Howard managed in the direction of Bucky before Peggy dragged him around the corner.

Once Howard was on the other side of her locked door, she gave herself a second to take a deep breath.

“My apologies,” she started, once she’d made it back in view of the two men. “Howard Stark… has the behavior of a feral animal, let’s put it that way.” She immediately noticed that Steve looked tense.

“You know Howard Stark?” Bucky asked, his expression incredulous again.

“Unfortunately.” She sat back down, forgoing the earlier set rules and taking Steve’s hand above the table and angling her chair towards his. Bucky didn’t seem to be disturbed.

“It couldn’t have been a normal girl you fell for, huh?” Bucky dug back into his cake and started to laugh. “Nah, course not. Cause this is something else.”

To her surprise Steve grinned at his friend. She felt his fingers squeeze hers. “Yeah, it is.”

She let out a loud breath, suddenly exhausted. “I need some coffee. Anyone else?”

For the most part, they ignored Howard’s visit while they finished up dessert with coffee. Before she knew it, Bucky was heading out with a slice of cake she wrapped up for him.

“Do you want me to come back with you?” Steve asked him.

“In case I forget where our apartment is?” He grinned. “I got it. Stay. Be mushy. It was good to finally meet you Peggy,” he said.

They washed dishes in tandem, and then finally retreated to her couch, Steve’s arm coming to curl around her as she huffed.

“Do you think I should be worried? About Bucky I mean.”

She didn’t know how to answer. There was no way to be sure, especially given Stark’s involvement. Things tended to go in unexpected directions whenever he was involved.

“I will talk to Howard. First thing tomorrow. I promise,” she vowed instead.

Steve sighed, nodded vaguely, and they both focused on the TV, or at least in the vague direction of the TV.

“Maybe this is a good thing,” Steve said out of nowhere a long while later, breaking the silence. “Right?”

She chewed at her lip.

“If it’s what he truly wants… I know Howard’s reputation as a madman, trust me. But underneath all that bravado and showmanship, deep, very deep down, he has good intentions. I will talk to him.” She paused to consider her next words. “I suppose, we cannot discount the fact that Bucky is in considerable pain, and that he has ownership of how he uses his body.”

“You’re right. I guess I can’t help but be worried when it comes to him. Not after everything.” He inhaled and exhaled loudly. “You trust Stark? Would you trust him with something like this for your best friend?”

She stared into his blue eyes. If it had been Steve, and there was an opportunity like this, could she really wish him not to take it?

“I do,” she finally said. “That doesn’t mean I can’t hold him to a very tight leash.”

 

 

She planned on marching into Howard’s lab and confronting him, sharp cutting words to take him down a few notches, and maybe as payback for turning a simple dinner into an entire event. But it was hard to pin down his location in the lab. When she finally found him, every time she opened her mouth to scold him, he was rushing off between monitors and worktables to make another note or another adjustment.

“Howard!”

He stopped midstride and looked at her as if he was genuinely surprised to see her. “Oh hey, Peg. Don’t worry about that prototype. I already sent it up to Rose.”

She stopped a growl that was rising in her throat.

“That is decidedly not why I am here.”

“Okay?”

She huffed. “Have you seriously forgotten your atrocious behavior last night?”

“Atrocious? I’m getting your squeeze’s best friend a real piece of craftsmanship to replace his arm. I’d say that’s more than thoughtful.”

She took a deep breath to keep calm. “Howard. He is not a plaything. He’s a real human being, and he lost that arm in very traumatic circumstances.”

“And it’s not meant for someone of his size. Don’t you think you’re treating the guy with kid gloves? I mean especially as he’s a vet.”

She opened her mouth to retort, only to come up surprisingly blank.

“Anyway, we need to talk about that.”

“About what?”

“About your new lover and metal arm.” She gritted her teeth and willed herself not to punch him. “Why have you been holding out?”

“You can imagine why I didn’t want to share my personal life at work.”

Howard waved his arm. “Not that. I know that about you. I meant about getting those guys into SHIELD.”

Her jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“They’re files and records. They’re perfect material. Better than lots we’ve got.”

“Howard!”

“What? It’s true. You know it’s true! I mean you’ve seen them.” Peggy bit her lip again, and remained silent. “I mean, you have. Haven’t you?”

Truthfully, the moment she found out Steve was ex-military, of course her instinct had been to run a search. She had gone as far as typing in his name and reading it displayed back at her, confirming his infantry unit. But she had clicked out of the database. For some reason, that tiny bit of information verified had been enough. She felt guilty about looking him up like that. She barely knew the man, despite getting to know him over a calming breathing technique and tea. It hardly felt fair knowing he couldn’t do the same for her. Literally. Her name wouldn’t have come up in the common databases, even if he had used some old military resource to run her. He’d been truthful, and vulnerable, and even if he wasn’t all that he seemed, she could take care of herself.

Of course, now, after weeks together with him, having heard his background and stories from his own mouth, it didn’t seem to matter. She trusted Steve. She’d trust him with her life. She already had, long before they had even applied a label on their relationship.

“You’re seriously dating an ex-military dude without ever having run a background check on him? You? Ms. Head of the Strategic Scientific Reserve Team?”

“Co-head. Remember, you were clear about making sure you were just as in charge on the actual Scientific part.”

“You seriously never even googled him?” Howard snorted. “Wow, maybe I’ve been underestimating just how fun you are.”

She narrowed her eyes and frowned at him. “My relationship with Steve is none of your concern. And I know enough without having poked through his files.”

“Come on Peggy. You know you’ve done it before. It’s just practical.”

“I know what kind of man he is Howard.”

“Which only makes me more confused as to why you haven’t tried to get him on board. What gives? He’s got a shiny gold medal of a record. A list of awards almost as long as the one I had after undergrad at MIT. And his friend’s no dunce either. Imagine how useful their training could be and how useful—”

“Howard, after all those deployments, has it not occurred to you that they deserve to rest. They’ve both given their time, service and health to this country. They are soldiers with PTSD, not even a year out of the service. Consider the fact that they’ve done their part.”

“Maybe.” Howard shook his head. “But maybe, you’re too close to it. And so you haven’t realized that you don’t know what they would want if given the opportunity. Did it ever occur to you to even ask? How quick was Sergeant Barnes to not only agree to a clinical trial for a new arm, but to readily know he wanted to make sure the rest of his comrades got the same treatment? How quick were to you to trust your Captain? Tell me honestly the thought never crossed your mind.”

Peggy seethed silently.

Howard nodded at her, and then pointed back at the models on his screen. “Need to get back to this. But I think we should have another talk about this later.”

Peggy was at a loss for words, her head unable to concentrate on anything but her conversation with Howard all the way back up to her office. She had to acknowledge that Howard made some good points, many she readily agreed with. Maybe Howard was right. Maybe when it came to Steve she couldn’t be impartial. That was new.

Maybe she was indeed too close to this.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The never-ending chapter part two. Just when I think it's going to a normal sized chapter, nope it's the longest one yet.  
> Alright folks, we're headed to the finish line. There will be one more chapter, and a two part epilogue to close this tale.

 

 

**“I paint the way some people write their autobiography. The paintings, finished or not, are the pages of my journal, and as such they are valid. The future will choose the pages it prefers. It's not up to me to make the choice.”**  
**― Françoise Gilot, _Life with Picasso_**

 

Bucky was humming in the kitchen when Steve saw him next. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen his friend so at ease and knew he should be glad.

Dinner hadn’t gone as Steve expected, not that he hadn’t prepared for a little awkwardness. But he did not anticipate Howard Stark barging in to offer Bucky a new arm. Even less, he never expected Bucky to agree. Without hesitation.

But he was trying to remember the point Peggy had made. It wasn’t his body. And he should probably try to keep an open mind, especially since he had never considered that the prosthetic itself was hurting Buck. Still… he couldn’t seem to stop the worry.

“So are you really gonna do it? Be a test subject for Stark?”

“Yeah,” Bucky replied. “I am.”

“Listen I get it. But we’re not just talking about you getting a new prosthetic. From what I’ve heard, Stark can get pretty wild with inventing. I just don’t want you to be stuck like some kind of lab rat.”

“Maybe. Stark might be a little nuts, but I’ve studied his stuff. He knows what he’s talking about. And he’s a perfectionist especially when he sees potential. And honestly, what kind of guy would I be to turn down free cutting edge tech from a billionaire genius? I don’t have the potential to make a difference on my own anymore. But he sure does. So if I can get help that will benefit others, well, this is a price I’m willing to pay.”

“Yeah, okay.”

He sighed, wishing he could shake off his concerns.

“It’ll be fine Steve,” Bucky said. “So did you know your girlfriend knew Howard Stark?”

“Yeah, they’ve known each other for years. I’ve even…” He trailed off. It’s a good story, a great one really, but he didn’t know if he should share it.

“Even what? What?”

Steve bit his lip, remembering Peggy in a bathing suit. “Let’s just say his rooftop pool is pretty great.”

Bucky looked at him with wide eyes. “You’ve been in his pool? With Peggy?” He started to laugh. “Unbelievable. Shit man. You’ve been holding out on me.”

His cheeks hurt from grinning at the memory.

Steve headed out to meet Peggy for a late afternoon coffee break when he ran into Gina and her daughter. Gabi, wearing her school uniform, bright pink backpack dangling off her back, was skipping through the lobby with what looked like a stack of books.

“Hello,” Steve called to them with a wave.

“Hi!” Gabi grinned, still bouncing as Gina headed for their mailbox.

“Whatcha got there? New adventure books?”

“Uh huh! Mommy and I went to the library. I got to pick five books today!”

“Five! That’s a lot,” he replied.

“It’s Friday! No school tomorrow so I get to read more,” she explained. “And I read so fast!”

Gina laughed. “Well that’s certainly true. Best reading skills of the whole second grade her teacher just told me.”

“Wow! Now that’s impressive,” he said with a wide grin that made Gabi giggle.

“By the way,” Gina said while she locked her mailbox. “I’ve been meaning to thank you. The landlord actually fixed that buzzer.”

He smiled and shrugged at her. “It’s really no problem.”

“Well, I really appreciate it. Between that and my mom also noticing there was actual paint on the walls the last time she was here, she’s been less on my back about living in this building. I think she’s starting to think it’s not all so bad.”

“Well hey, it’s a start. I’m glad to have helped,” he told her. “Have a good weekend. Enjoy your reading!”

He’s almost out the door but could still hear Gabi’s excited recitation of the titles of her newly borrowed library books. The pureness of it made him smile all the way to the subway.

There’s a certain chill to the breeze that reminded Steve that summer was really over. Sure, the eighty degree weather still lingered, and knowing New York, would continue into October, but the days were starting to shorten already, and it was only a matter of days until astronomical fall began. Slowly, the balmy streets were beginning to cool.

So much had already changed since the spring. He could hardly believe the summer had come and passed, both in a flash and in a prolonged bubble of happiness. Somehow, incredibly, he’d been dating Peggy for two months. It felt longer. He was sure it must have been longer, for how deeply rooted his feelings were. For the kinds of thoughts he was having, the kind he was sure weren’t meant for the usual two-month timeline of a relationship. He couldn’t help it.

The change in weather, brought about all the other changes of the season, t-shirts now aided with sweaters, jackets, an occasional scarf; the growing dark nights. It all called for other kinds of changes.

“I think I’m going to find a new therapist too,” Steve mentioned to Peggy over coffee. “I mean, mine’s nice enough but…”

“You’re just not getting that much out of it anymore? That’s okay Steve. Your needs are different than they were six months ago.”

“That’s what Sam said. We’re all different and we respond differently to certain techniques.”

She nodded. “Do you want help finding a new therapist?”

“Actually Sam gave me a suggestion. I think I’ll give it a shot.”

She squeezed his hand. “I think that’s a great idea Steve. And if there’s anything I can do, please let me know.”

It’s the one afternoon in days he actually managed to spend time with her. Work had her so incredibly busy that dates had been relegated into texts and calls. Between Peggy’s hectic schedule, and Bucky now heading into Stark’s lab every day, he’s been stuck with a little too much time on his hands. His new therapy appointment wasn’t for days either.

Even work wasn’t keeping him as occupied as usual. Steve’s day had been cut short. Again. There had been delays at his new jobsite, and the project fell behind schedule for the second time that week, causing Miller send to send a bunch of them home early. He ended up walking most of the way home, feeling strange to have so much time on his hands, and no one to go see. He could probably stand with something to do. Chores maybe. Grocery shopping even. Just something.

“Hello there,” Gina Hernandez greeted with a smile from her mailbox when he entered the lobby. “Nice hot day for September.”

“Yeah, tell me about it.”

They were about to part ways when he was reminded of something. “Wait. Your daughter. She wanted to paint her bookcase pink right?”

“Oh, right. Gabi saw some picture on the internet of some girl with bright pink bookshelves. She’s been obsessed with the idea ever since.”

“I could paint them for her.”

“Oh! That’s so sweet but I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Honestly, it’d be fun. My best friend and girlfriend have long hours right now, while I’m having short workdays. Beats the boredom. It wouldn’t take long. I’d just need to sand it and put a few coats of spray paint on it. And what’s a couple hours of work in getting the star reader of second grade the perfect bookshelves?”

“Really? You could do something like that?”

“Easy,” he replied. “Tell you what. I’ll find out if I have a morning off sometime soon, and if so I can even do it while Gabi’s at school and you can even surprise her when she gets home.”

Gina grinned and Steve started planning. A project. Having a project felt good.

 

The phone woke him around ten. He’d been fast asleep. He saw Peggy’s name and he cleared his throat.

“Hey Peg.”

She immediately sighed. He didn’t like the sound, immediately sensing something was wrong, just as she surely could tell he’d been sleeping.

“You were asleep.”

“Hardly. Are you alright?”

Another sigh. “I…”

“Where are you? Home?”

“No. No I… I don’t… Could I come stay at yours?”

He sat up in bed. “Are you okay Peggy?”

“I’m fine. Really. I just… I’m not far and I wanted to see you.”

He still didn’t like the flatness to her voice. “Yes. Of course. You can always come by.”

Steve slipped a t-shirt on. It’s only a couple minutes before he buzzes her in. She really had been close. The second he opened the door, she reached for him. He hugged her tight, kicking the door shut. He felt her sharp breaths against his chest, pressing a kiss to her hair.

“Hey,” he whispered with a smile, leaning down for a quick kiss.

The circles under her eyes are particularly noticeable. She hadn’t been sleeping well then.

“Sorry I woke you.”

“Don’t be.”

He locked the door and with an arm still around her, shepherded her into his room. She set her purse down and sat on his bed, rubbing her forehead and kicking off her heels. He opened a drawer and pulled out a clean shirt for her.

“Why don’t you change? You’ll be more comfortable.”

She nodded absently at him but took the offered shirt. He watched her shed her blazer, then pants, draping each neatly, so he decided to hang them for her instead. When he turned back, she was down to undergarments, his blue shirt still clutched in his hands, staring blankly ahead at nothing.

“Peggy?” She snapped back into focus. He sat down next to her. “You sure you’re okay?”

She nodded and still clutching his shirt, curled up against his pillow. He followed suit, quietly lying next to her.

“Work?” he asked softly. She nodded. “Can I do anything?

She turned and rolled into him, head against his chest. “No. This is what I wanted.”

He brushed her hair back and pulled her tighter into his arms. He let her be, more than happy to offer his support in whatever way she wanted it, cuddles working just fine for him. He figured she might even fall asleep that way, nestled against him. She didn’t say anything but he could tell she was awake. He rubbed gentle circles against her arms and back.

“Could you do me a favor?” he heard her ask. “Could you just talk? Tell me about your day. Anything please. I need to get out of my head.”

He nodded and kissed the top of her head and started telling her about the new jobsite, leaving no extraneous detail out. He went on about the building, about the color scheme, and then finally when he’d run out of work talk, told her his plan to paint a bookcase for the little girl downstairs.

She gasped suddenly. “Shit! I was supposed to get you in contact with Jarvis. He wants to get something special for the ninth anniversary of his marriage to Ana, and wanted to ask you to paint something for her. I completely forgot to mention it! I was supposed to butter you up into saying yes. Damn it.”

He kissed her shoulder and tightened his arm around her. “It’s okay. Leave me his number. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“Really?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. What’s another fun project?” He kissed her again. “Relax Peg. Just relax. I’m here for whatever you need.”

After a long stretch of silence she turned to face him with a sigh.

“Mostly I’m tired,” she told him, “and I didn’t want to go home and be alone.”

He nodded, squeezing her hand. “You’re always welcome.”

She offered up a smile. “You’re very sweet darling.” She kissed him once then stood, pulling his shirt over her head.

“Can I get you anything? Something to eat or drink?”

She shook her head. “I’d rather just put an end to this day. I’m just going to wash up and use the loo.”

He decided he would at the very least get her a glass of water. He heard the bathroom sink running on his way to the kitchen. Back in his bedroom, he set the glass down on the little bedside table for her and rearranged the pillows and covers, reaching into his closet for an extra blanket.

He heard voices, one definitely sounding like Bucky, so he stuck his head out into the hall. There, Peggy stood, clad only in his t-shirt that came to her knees, right in front of an amused Bucky. He missed the tail end of their conversation.

“Nice to see you again Carter. Have a good night you two lovebirds.”

She didn’t seem disturbed by Bucky’s obnoxious wink. Before she had even made it all the way inside his room, door still wide open, Bucky doubled-back and stuck his head inside.

“By the way,” Buck said, “my ma said you’re both kindly invited to attend the next family dinner. I get the sense, she’s pretty interested in meeting you Peggy.” He grinned devilishly and shut the door behind him before either of them had managed to respond.

“Family dinner, huh?” Peggy said, plugging in her phone and tying her hair back.

“Yeah.” He shrugged a little helplessly. “Mrs. Barnes is a great cook and all of Buck’s siblings’ significant others are usually invited. Except this guy his middle sister was dating for a while. He was such a jerk. When Mrs. Barnes put her foot down that he wasn’t allowed back in the house, she finally broke up with him. Two weeks later, he was arrested for a DUI. Totaled his car smashing into someone else’s car. Luckily everyone was okay.”

“So she’s a good judge of characters?”

“Scarily accurate. Partly a mom thing I think. She always knows.”

“So Bucky reported back. And I’m still invited?”

He chuckled. “I mean, what’s not to like?” He shrugged again. “You totally don’t have to, I know your schedule is really hectic.”

She slipped into bed, pulling the covers over herself.

“Do you want me to close the window? I was running kind of hot, but there’s a breeze now.”

She shook her head and shifted closer to him. “You’ll keep me warm.”

Steve turned out the light and pulled her back against his chest. “I can definitely keep you warm.”

She hummed sleepily, and he felt her fingers slip between his. She really must have been exhausted, because Steve was sure she had fallen asleep the next minute. Poor Peggy. She was being run ragged. It did, however, make him glad that she wanted to come over, that sleeping next to him brought her some peace.

 

After work, he met Jarvis at Stark’s building on the Upper East Side. It’s the first time he saw the floor the Jarvises have to themselves just below Stark’s penthouse. The layout was similar, but the contents much more varied, open and colorful; a perfection representation of Ana and Jarvis’ marriage he suspected.

While Jarvis was making him a perfect British cup of tea, Steve sat at the kitchen island perusing the couple’s wedding and honeymoon photo album. It was a thick, leather-bound book, styled more like a scrapbook, with ticket stubs, postcards, and other keepsakes tucked in alongside the photographs. The beautiful memento absorbed Steve’s attention.

“And you had the ceremony here?”

“Yes, indeed. A small courthouse wedding shortly after I was granted my dual American citizenship, I’m sure to the horror of my ancestors. But it was necessary, especially in Ana’s case, and I shall not regret any decision that keeps me with her.”

Steve smiled at him. He remembered the story Peggy had mentioned about his wife almost being deported. He believed that Jarvis would do anything for his wife, and he understood that capability of true love.

There’s a photo of Jarvis and Ana kissing in the courthouse. The simplicity of it, and yet the pure happiness, moved Steve. And there was no need to ask who took the photo, when in the next one Howard’s face showed up, taking up most of the frame with his mustachioed-grin as Ana and Jarvis looked toward the camera with smiles. It’s another reminder that there’s more to Stark than his public persona. That he and Peggy genuinely had some sort of functional friendship apart from work. That he was the kind of man who would happily be a witness at his butler’s wedding. That was the guy in charge of fixing up a new arm for Bucky.

“Nothing wrong with an intimate wedding,” he told Jarvis.

“Indeed Mr. Rogers,” Jarvis said, setting down the cup of tea and a plate of scones. “Naturally, going to Hungary for the honeymoon seemed right. Ana doesn’t have much family left there, but I know she enjoyed it so.”

“How long was your trip?”

“Two weeks. We travelled all across the country. We spent the most time in a little hilly village that Ana visited with her parents as a young girl. She remembers dancing in the valleys of flowers fondly. I thought it an appropriate honeymoon location.”

From the photos alone, Steve would have agreed. But to know Jarvis had taken his wife to a place of happy memories, made his heart warm.

It reminded him of his parents. How his mother had always fondly talked about their honeymoon. When they first married, there had been little money for a real trip, definitely not to visit their family roots among the rolling green in Ireland. In its stead, his father had devised a little road trip up the Hudson River Valley, to the large green vistas, with a final destination in the Catskills for two nights in a modest cabin. As close to the rocky greenery he could get his wife at the time. His mother had always said the thoughtful consideration his father made of her wishes made their honeymoon magical even without the luxuries.

They’d managed to finally take that trip to Ireland in honor of their second wedding anniversary. It was funny to remember he was conceived there, among the rolling countryside pastures of his great-grandparents.

“Never thought about having kids?”

He hadn’t expected the profound silence that met his question, and when he looked up there was something tragic in Jarvis’ eye.

“Unfortunately, we are unable to have children of our own.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

“It’s quite alright Mr. Rogers. Ana and I have long come to terms with that. The important thing for us was that we had each other. The rest… well there are always options. There are plenty of ways to have a family. Perhaps one day we’ll consider children again. Perhaps not. For now, friends, loved ones, and as many pets as Ana would like, that’s the family we cherish.”

Steve met Jarvis’ smile with his own. After a while, he resumed his perusal of the album. He stared at a photo of Ana and Jarvis wrapped up in a hug, looking intently in each other’s eyes and not the camera. He knew better, but could not shake the image that floated into the back of his mind. He didn’t dare to name it, not even in his head. But it was Peggy he saw.

“This is a stunning view,” Steve told Jarvis about a photo of the couple among the fields of flowers, a little house in the background. “Is this what you’re thinking for the painting? You two in the foreground, with the fields and house behind?”

“I do think that would make a lovely reminder of the beginnings of our family.”

Steve nodded. “I think that’d make a great anniversary gift.”

He continued to flip through the album, taking a few pictures with his phone. While Jarvis had gone to retrieve the laundry, Steve pulled out his sketchbook and stared sketching rough lines and proportions. He flipped to another page in the album and found a photo of a young Ana and her parents. Before he realized where the inspiration has led him, he’s add a few figures to the sketch.

“Already at work?” Jarvis asked seemingly surprised.

Steve’s fingers were itching. He wanted to continue this, a crisp, clear image already taking over his imagination.

“I have an idea,” he told Jarvis, then held up a finger before returning to his scribbling.

After a few minutes, he slid the sketchbook in front of Jarvis.

“I know it’s rough—”

“This is simply wonderful,” Jarvis said. “Now this, Ana will love.”

 

Steve had always walked out of therapy sessions with a clouded head and feeling a little less heavy but this was the first time he ever walked out of a session with an easy smile. To be fair, as this was his first appointment with Sam’s recommendation, the hour was informal, a few questions about his background at the beginning, but after that it felt more like a conversation.

Between discussions of his old therapy routine and just getting to know each other, they ended on support systems, more specifically, on how Steve seemed to be more in control of retaining the kind of support system he deserved and needed. A relationship, his friendship with Bucky. Even those weekly group sessions making art with the art therapy group down at the VA. It all made his day-to-day more bearable. More and more, he just felt like Steve Rogers again.

It was a world of difference from those early weeks freshly out of the hospital. Sure, the nightmares still came, but there were hands to hold onto, people to confide in. He no longer felt isolated and desperately alone. That made all the difference.

 

The plan was set in motion. Steve had a morning off and he’d already borrowed a power sander and quick-drying polyurethane from Miller who had even given him a few tips when Steve told him about the project. Gabi was already at school, and Gina led him to the bookcase that she had cleared off. He carried it just outside the apartment where he could still use the sander with an extension cord. Once the wood was smooth, he snapped the top off the first can of pink spray paint he had purchased.

Steve applied the paint coats with ease, down to every inside corner and cranny. It wasn’t hard to feel cheerful with the pink brightening up the New York sidewalk. He left the bookcase just outside the Hernandez’ door to dry completely while he went upstairs to wash his hands and set the tools away. When he’d come down to check on it, another idea came to mind and ran back up for his acrylic paints and a small round brush.

“This looks amazing Steve,” Gina said when he knocked on her door.

“Almost done. I had an idea for a finishing touch. Does Gabi have any other favorite colors? I thought I could paint her name on the side too.”

“Blue and purple.”

“Blue and purple it is,” he repeated with a grin.

With a flourish, he painted her name, adding a little accent of a flower as the dot in the last letter of her name.

The finishing coats took the most time, painstakingly waiting for each layer to dry before adding the next. Still, by one o’clock, it was finished.

“It should be fully dry and ready to touch by the time Gabi gets home.”

“She’ll love this,” Gina told him. “This was so kind of you. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. This was fun. Trust me, bright pink is so much more fun than gallons and gallons of white. Brightens up my week.”

“She’s going to be squealing for days.”

He grinned. “Let me know how the surprise goes over,” he said to Gina on his way out.

Gina laughed. “Lots of shrieking and jumping around for sure. And then bragging to her classmates I’m sure. Thank you so much Steve.”

“You’re welcome. Have a great day.”

 

Peggy hadn’t been sleeping much again. It was plain to see her exhaustion and stress, when she bothered to leave the office at all. He’d been seeing her less and less. He chalked it up to a busy workload, but by the time they had a real date, lasting more than twenty minutes for the first time in ages, he realized that she’d been a little too quiet, and even distant.

“Is everything okay at work?”

“Hm?” she asked distractedly. “Business as usual. Just a lot of hours.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Did I do something unintentionally? Or did Bucky say something stupid because—”

“No. No. Everything’s fine.”

He made a point to meet her eyes. He knew that wasn’t true.

“Something’s bothering you. What’s going on?”

She sighed and crossed her arms. “It’s just something stupid Howard said that unfortunately he might be right about.”

His neck turned curiously at her words. “Oh? And what might that be?”

She sighed again and took a step back. “Honestly? About me being too emotionally charged when it comes to you.”

He didn’t like the way his stomach dropped at that. Was this how she broke up with him? His throat felt tight and he couldn’t find any words.

“I never looked you up,” she said.

It was definitely not what he had expected her to say.

“Um?”

Another sigh.

“After I learned your name, when I suspected I was already developing feelings for you. I never ran a background check on you because it hadn’t felt fair. I went as far as typing your name in. Captain Steven G. Rogers, U.S. Army, 107th Infantry. Just like you said. It was the only concrete information I needed. I had already trusted you.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“No. Steve. It’s just… in my profession it just makes practical sense for me to do a background check on a man I’ve come to care about.”

He could understand that. “So you’re worried you jumped into things with me?” he asked, his heart still pounding with worry.

“No. I don’t regret it Steve. Not a single minute,” she said, her eyes soft and reaching for his hand. “Howard meant it on a professional level.”

“Meaning what? He thinks you can’t do your job because we’re together?”

She bit her lip. “Not exactly.”

He was thoroughly confused. Peggy didn’t regret being with him. That was great news. But she still looked upset. That didn’t bode well. How was being with him affecting her job anyway?

“I don’t think I understand.”

“Could we sit down?” That sounded serious. Like something he should worry about. But she didn’t keep any distance from him on the couch. She even held his hand. “Steve?” she asked. “Are you happy? With your work?”

He didn’t have a ready answer for her. Was he happy with his work? It’s fairly routine again, with Miller occasionally giving him more creative tasks, like painting and lacquering custom built furniture. Sometimes storefronts needed temporary signage to hang, big block letter, careful cursive. He got to paint those too.

On the other hand, did he feel like he was thriving in a sea of swarthy guys who cared more about doing as little as possible until it was time to go? He felt for Miller, really, a fair boss who’d given Steve a job when no one else did.

But Steve finally felt comfortable with the routine of it, the hours, the physical labor. He’d even learned a few things. There were tangible results at the end of every day. And he couldn’t complain about the pay either.

“It’s fine,” he finally answered.

“Just fine? Is it something you want to be doing for a while?”

He shrugged, suddenly reminded of how Bucky called it a temporary job. The possibility of a military job seemed long off now, but he hadn’t been wishing for one either. He didn’t know what he wanted to be doing. He never set a real plan, never dared to dream about an alternate career, or what life could look like outside of active duty. Maybe he should have.

“I’m not sure. I like it for now.”

“There was a specific concern Howard had,” she admitted slowly. “As you can imagine, Howard is not one to leave things alone. Stark believes my feelings for you has clouded my focus on a particular aspect of my job. And the more I think about it, the more it seems inevitable that he was right.”

Steve looked at her, even more confused.

“Stark said I was too close to see clearly. He believes that otherwise I would have acknowledged your potential. That I would have flagged you as a potential recruit months ago. You and Bucky actually.”

This was definitely not what he expected. He was at a loss for words.

“I think instinctually, I was being selfish. Because I care so much for you, and you’ve been through so much Steve. I wanted to protect you, even if there were benefits to the prospect.” She sighed again. “I hadn’t even asked what you wanted. I just assumed that my actions were in your best interest. As unconscious as they might have been. And that’s an issue. Because I should have at least thought to ask. To give you the option. For you and Bucky.”

“A job?” he asked, still confounded.

“Yes,” she said. “Perhaps, I was trying to prevent an opportunity where I couldn’t maintain my professionalism with you.”

This made his lips turn up, and he squeezed her hand, plainly seeing the uncertainty and doubt in her expression.

“Come on, tell me you don’t actually believe that,” he said. “You really think just because we’re in a relationship you wouldn’t still be making the same decisions at work?”

“It’s possible Steve. Face it, you’re a soft spot of mine.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. But I know the score. I’ve been in those situations. And I know you. You stick to your guns. And even if we disagree, I’d always respect that.”

She tucked her head into his shoulder and he held her tight.

“So this isn’t you breaking up with me?”

“Steve.” She reached up to cup his cheek. “No.”

He nodded. “Good because Peggy, I am in this. Whatever else happens, I want to be with you.”

She kissed him, and when she pulled away he noticed that her uncertainty was no longer there, and her whole body opened up. They cuddled up on the couch for a long time in silence.

“So a job?”

“Mm. They want to have to bring you two in for a meeting.”

The next morning, Steve and Bucky received the same phone call from a Colonel Phillips, requesting a meeting on behalf of the U.S. Military. They were given an address and a date. It led to a nondescript office building, no signage, not even in the lobby. At the reception desk, a young man immediately supplied them with temporary ID badges, already bearing their photos above a large visitor label. He then breezily shuffled them to an elevator where he slid a card into the elevator’s interface, wishing them a good day before the doors shut leaving the two alone to shrug at each other.

The elevator deposited them on the fourth floor, at another reception desk sitting between long hallways leading off to the left and right. Still, there was no revealing features from which to divine any secrets. The receptionist smiled brightly and led them into a closed door down the hallway to the right of her post. It was an empty conference room.

“Can I offer you something to drink? Coffee? Or water?” she asked while he and Bucky chose seats together at one side of the table.

“Guesses on which letter agency this is?” Bucky asked out of the corner of his mouth once she’d gone. “DHS?”

“Not sure,” he replied. “Guess we’ll find out.”

The receptionist returned with their drinks, leaving three extra glasses and a large bottle of water on the table.

“The Colonel will be with you in just a few minutes,” she announced before leaving again.

He hardly had the opportunity to finish studying the room before the doors opened again and three people walked in. Stark was the first one inside, grinning, still half turned as if he’d just finished telling the others something funny. The man who followed had graying hair and a serious expression. Even if he wasn’t wearing his formal gear, Steve would have known for certain this was Colonel Phillips, reminding him exactly of his old field commanders. Peggy was the last one inside, holding a portfolio and giving them both a measured smile.

“Gentlemen,” said Phillips.

Without even thinking, he and Bucky stood to salute him.

He returned it. “At ease,” he called before taking a seat across from them.

Across the table they shook hands. Stark was still grinning at ease at Phillip’s right, while Peggy sat to his left, directly across from Steve. He had to remind himself to tamp down his excitement of seeing her. After all, this was a professional meeting. But he had been eager to see her in her element and was endlessly fascinated. The tailored black blazer, with a pop of red in her shirt and lipstick looked sharp, but it was the way she held herself that beheld the majority of the exuding commanding presence. He felt a shiver.

“I have it on good authority that you’re familiar with both my colleagues, but for the sake of decorum, this is Howard Stark and Agent Carter. They head the division I oversee,” Phillips said. “So. Boys. I presume you’d like to hear exactly which agency we represent.”

Both he and Bucky leaned in eagerly. Howard hopped up from his seat right as Peggy pressed something on her tablet. The room went dark and the far wall came alive.

“I’ll remind you gentlemen that this is proprietary and privileged information.”

Howard chuckled. “Welcome to SHIELD.”

Steve recognized the geometric eagle emblem that now took up the wall screen. He’d seen it on a few of his more sensitive mission intel reports. Still, he hardly knew anything else.

“Phillips, Agent Carter and I run a fairly new subdivision, the Strategic Scientific Reserve. We specialize in counteracting all kinds of weaponized global threats from engineered pandemics, to the retrieval of contraband military technology from the wrong hands. Our strategy is both diplomacy and preventive engagements on the backbone of scientific data and analysis. For the past four years we’ve been leading the efforts to combat the elusive and growing multinational terrorist conglomerate known as HYDRA.”

The presentation was a good one. Excellent. But for whatever reason, despite hearing about this meeting first from Peggy, it wasn’t until they actually offer them positions in the organization that it really registered that he was being tapped. He and Bucky. It’s not as if he was a total moron, but between figuring out why the term HYDRA sounded familiar and trying to keep his attention off of Peggy, he was a little distracted.

It dawned on him that he remembered the term from that night with Peggy. Still… something was nagging him about it. As if there was more he could possible remember.

He’d been so distracted thinking, it wasn’t until he noticed Bucky shift in his chair, looking from him to the three across the table, that Steve realized that the room seemed to be waiting on his response.

Steve took a careful look at Bucky. Unbelievably, Bucky seemed excited, even eager. The realization was jarring. The job and its many benefits sounded great—an appealing pitch—but Steve had no hesitations about declining. Not until that moment. Not only Bucky looked carefully at him and broke the silence.

“You know, this is a lot of information. I think we could use a few days to mull it over,” Bucky had said, giving Steve a short nod he did not understand.

“Of course,” Phillips said easily, although Steve noted a frustrated look on Stark’s face. “Mull it over. I’ll have my office set us up with a follow-up later in the week.”

He didn’t need to mull it over. He’d been so sure. But the fact that he had been so sure was only making him reconsider. Bucky had been up for it. Bucky of all people. Had he missed something?

Steve noticed Stark trying to catch Peggy’s eye across the table, but she was placidly shutting off the screen and tucking her tablet and paperwork back into the portfolio.

They all shook hands again. Peggy had given him a probing look along with hers. Had Peggy been counting on him saying yes? Suddenly everything felt so uncertain.

There wasn’t even a chance to talk about it with Bucky who had his therapist to get to after the meeting. Steve made his way uptown alone, walking part of the way, needing to clear his head. He had suddenly found himself directionless.

Once at home, he found himself lying in bed for a lack of anything better to do. He tossed and turned, not the least bit tired to actually take a nap. He tried to think, trying to consider the offer objectively. A job at a secret intelligence organization. At a fast-paced environment suited to his skillset and ripe with opportunity.

But his gut instinct had been to turn it down.

Would he have said yes six months ago? He was sure he would have. So what changed? Had he fundamentally changed without even realizing it?

He was in an odd mood that he desperately needed to shake. Steve grabbed his paints and began swishing strokes onto the bright skyline in Ana Jarvis’ anniversary present. He’d passed a few hours painting when he heard knocking. Grabbing a rag to clear off his hands, he headed to the door.

Steve opened it to find Gabi looking up at him, her mother right behind smiling encouragingly.

“Well hello,” Steve said, easily smiling at the girl.

“Hi,” she chirped, looking back toward her mother who nodded. Gabi lifted up a plate to him. “Abuela, mommy and me made tamales to say thank you,” she said shyly.

“We just wanted to show you our appreciation for your thoughtful gift. Right Gabi?” Gina said.

“Uh huh!”

Steve’s smile widened and he squatted down. “Thank you so much Gabi.”

The girl rocked back and forth on her heels and smiled back. “Do you like tamales? There are spicy ones and regular ones. Mom likes spicy, spicy, spicy. But I like the regular ones.”

“Oh I love tamales. And homemade ones? This is awesome. So do your books like their new home?”

“Yes!” Gabi giggled. “They love, love love pink! Just like me.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

“Thank you so so much!” Gabi said giving him a hug.

“You’re very welcome.”

His strange mood had already been lifted, but when he set the plate down in the kitchen, noticing a paper stuck to it, his mouth split into an even wider smile. It was a hand-drawn thank-you card full of glitter, with a cartoon Gabi with a big crayon smile reading in front of a giant pink bookcase. She signed it, “ _From your friend, Gabi._ ”

He set it carefully on display at his desk.

 

Surprisingly, he and Peggy didn’t talk about the meeting that night. He wasn’t sure what to say yet, and even if he did, it wasn’t something he wanted to discuss over the phone. They didn’t even mention that he’d seen her at work at all, even though he was still imagining her marching through crowds of people with perfect ease, delivering speeches and prepping teams for missions. It put the conversation she had on the phone the day he met her in a new light. The pieces all fit. He’d seen her be impressive, but it was still a thrill to know her full-range of talents was being put to use.

Still… It didn’t change the conflicting feelings he had.

His second appointment became the venting ground for these new conflictions. Although they discussed his hesitations about taking a new job, exploring the whats and whys of feeling uncertain about his initial certainty, Steve hadn’t made another firm decision. He needed more time to work it out. It wasn’t the only thing that ended up needing more work. He’d also had new nightmares, two distinct ones in the last night alone, something his therapist wanted to explore more since it was brought up at their initial meeting.

“So my therapist gave me homework,” he told Peggy later that day when they met for a quick dinner.

“Really. What sort of homework?”

“I’m supposed to draw my dreams, especially the nightmares. My therapist suggested it since I told her I was joining that art therapy group on a regular basis. She thinks it will help me track my sleep and try to put faces on the things that are gnawing at my brain.”

“So like a visual dream journal. Seems like it could be useful. A method tailored to you,” she replied.

“Yeah, I guess so.”

His therapist did point out she’d asked several patients to keep dream journals. Still he hadn’t anticipated an assignment. He’s supposed to sketch every dream. If he for whatever reason, couldn’t, or simply didn’t remember enough, he’s still meant to note of it.

“Do you have a separate sketchbook for that?”

“No. I haven’t gotten that far.”

“Well why don’t we go pick one up?”

“We don’t have to do it now. I might have a spare somewhere at home.”

She shrugged. “It seems important. We’ll get you a nice new one specifically for your assignment.”

The art store had always been a source of calm for him, the sights, the smell, all appealing in their familiarity. Browsing with Peggy had fun. After he had chosen a new mid-sized sketchbook as his therapy dream journal, he helped Peggy pick up a few fancy pens for herself, from professional blacks and blues, to more fun colorful gel pens.

Back at her place, he fiddled with his new journal, turning to the first page and dating the corner, while Peggy sat at the other end of the couch, deep in concentration on her laptop. He was trying to figure out how to word the thoughts at the tip of his tongue.

“Hey Peggy?” She looked up from her work, but he didn’t know quite how to continue. She waited, still looking at him. “Are we going to talk about the job?”

She set her laptop away and shifted closer.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shrugged. “We hardly mentioned the meeting.”

Peggy bit her lip and nodded. “I didn’t want to influence your thoughts. It’s your decision to make.” He tried to nod, knee bouncing. After a while he felt her hand on his shoulder. “Is the decision bothering you?”

“I just… I know you told me about it first. And I understood Phillips’ call. But still, somehow, the thought hadn’t occurred to me that this could be a next step.” He sighed. “I think maybe even a few weeks ago I wouldn’t have felt so weird about it. But now…”

She squeezed his arm. “Steve. I never wanted this to be an added stress.”

“Maybe I’m just overthinking it.”

“Then don’t. Don’t overthink it.” He met her gaze. “Steve, I think you knew what your answer would be in that meeting. If you did, and it still feels true then that’s what it is. You do not have to consider anyone else’s feelings. Certainly not mine. You are allowed to make the choice first and foremost for yourself.”

Steve nodded, feeling a more and more sure sense bubbling up inside of him.

“Stark told you he was worried about your personal life getting in the way of professional decisions. If I was some random recruit off the street that came to you with conflicting feelings, would you say the same thing?”

“Yes,” she said immediately. “Granted, you have a leg up as you’ve done work in a very similar capacity as opposed to a newcomer. But, this is a two-way street. It has to fit both parties. If a recruit was vacillating, my assumption would be to believe there is a just cause for that. This is not a career choice to make with only one foot in the door. It’s more than a full-time job. It becomes a lifestyle. You know this already.”

There it was. One of the things on the tip of his tongue. It’s more than a job. It’s a new lifestyle. A new lifestyle while he had just been getting used to his current one. He knew what it meant to have a classified job. He’d done it before. But he was younger. Less fractured. Different. It’s a life of hiding again and he’d just found himself comfortable opening up.

For the first time in years, he’d been able to pursue the less concrete things: passions, lifelong wishes, reacquainting with the deep desires of his soul. His military career had trumped that for a long time. He’d been denying himself them for years. And now, he wasn’t ready to leave behind the stirrings of Steve Rogers the civilian.

Without saying anything, he took her hand, lacing their fingers. She smiled.

 

Steve was sitting on the couch in front of the TV trying to draw the last dream he remembered in his therapy journal when Bucky came in, throwing down his bag, looking sweaty.

“Hey,” he called to Steve.

“Hey. Gym?”

“Yeah,” Bucky said after gulping down a bottle of water. “Stark’s going to give me a temporary replacement prosthetic in a couple days. He’s testing some new durable but light-weight material in 3D printing. I’m supposed to work my upper body some to keep the muscles and tissues stimulated in the meantime.”

“That’s great Buck.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool stuff,” Bucky said in an upbeat voice Steve hadn’t heard in a long time.

He was still sketching when Bucky came out of the shower.

“So,” Bucky started, “meeting’s tomorrow.” Steve put his pencil in the sketchbook and closed it, nodded mutely at Bucky. “It’ll be pretty cool to work for them, don’t you think?”

Steve sighed. They never did wind up discussing the matter. Bucky frowned, brows wrinkled in confusion.

“You still need time to think about it?”

“I’m not taking the job Buck.”

His mouth gaped open. “You’re serious.” He flopped down on the couch next to him. “Is there something I should know? Because if there’s a reason we shouldn’t join them—”

“You know we don’t have to do everything together Buck.” He didn’t like the way Bucky’s jaw clenched. “Maybe that’s been one of our issues. We tried to use each other as a crutch when neither of us could stand on our own two feet. We’re always going to be Steve and Buck. Doesn’t mean we can’t do different things. To want different things.”

Buck nodded, playing with a loose thread in his shirt.

“I know I talked a lot of shit when I was pissed, Steve. And shit, most of it’s true. But I didn’t expect my shit-talking to make you turn this opportunity down.”

“It’s nothing to do with that Buck.”

“Really? Because a couple of months ago you would have jumped at this.”

“Yeah. But I don’t feel the way I did back then. And that’s a good thing.” He heard Buck snort, clearly unconvinced. “I’m not ready for something like this Buck. I’m not sure it’s something I even want anymore.”

“But you’d rather work for Miller?”

“Not forever. But I feel more like myself than I did before. New York’s just started to feel like home again. And I’m not ready for a classified life again. I can’t explain it. I know it’s an amazing opportunity. But I was gut sure at the meeting Buck.”

“Of turning them down.”

“Yeah.”

Bucky shook his head and stood up, headed for the kitchen.

“This calls for beer. And before you say anything, I haven’t had any alcohol tonight, or in the last three days. Just a cold beer sitting on the couch with my punk ass friend. I’d say the situation calls for one.”

“Alright,” Steve relented.

Bucky brought back two cold bottles, sliding one into Steve’s hand before flopping back onto the couch.

“Cheers.” Bucky took a long swig. “This is weird.” He sank back on the couch. “Tell me this wasn’t supposed to go the opposite way.”

“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to want the job,” Steve admitted.

Bucky laughed. “Yeah well… I know what you mean. But the stuff they’re capable of. The things you’d get to work on. It’s not mindless. And they want me for more than my ability to fire a gun.”

Steve leaned over to clink their bottles together again. “It’s a great job. They’ll be lucky to have you.”

“This isn’t about your girlfriend, is it?”

Steve gave him a half smile. “No. Working with Peggy would have been great. Fun even.”

“Does she know you’re rejecting her offer?”

“We didn’t talk about it too much. She didn’t want to influence my decision. But she’s smart. And she knows me so…”

Bucky snorted. “Hell of a woman,” he said. “It’s funny. You know when you first told me about her, the first time you showed me a picture, I was jealous as hell. Hard not to be. Obviously she’s gorgeous, and you were having a better time than I was. Guess that was weird for me. But then to actually meet her. To find out what she’s in charge of… Well shit Steve.” He took a sip of beer. “You know if you weren’t my best friend, and she obviously didn’t only have eyes for you, I’d be seriously pissed.”

“Gee, thanks,” Steve replied flatly.

“Aw, come on punk, you know what I mean. And I just said she only has eyes for you.” Steve frowned and shrugged. “Steve. Come on. I’d never do anything, especially since I can see you’re already crazy in love with her.”

Steve felt his eyes widen, and his heart sink a little.

“That obvious, huh?”

Bucky laughed. “Since when is that a bad thing?”

He shrugged. “Since we’ve only been together two months.”

“Yeah. But you can’t help how you feel. You just do. It’s how you act on it that matters more.” Steve nodded. “So maybe just don’t freak her out by getting down on one knee on your next monthiversary or whatever.”

Steve choked on his beer, spluttering and coughing hard. “I—I’m not—”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say punk.” He slapped Steve across the shoulder. “I’m really happy for you Steve.”

Steve shook his head, and wiped his wet chin.

 

It wasn’t hard to turn down SHIELD’s offer at the second meeting. Phillips’ expression was tight but there seemed to be a flicker of understanding in his eyes. Peggy never batted an eyelash. Steve sat back waiting for the end of the welcomes and congratulatory handshakes aimed at Bucky.

“You take care of yourself Captain,” Phillips had said with a final handshake before he left the room for a more pressing matter.

“Peg, talk to him,” Stark complained loudly. “Tell—”

Peggy held up her palm and Stark fell silent.

“Mr. Stark will take you to HR now Sergeant Barnes. Howard, make sure they get him started on the paperwork and a new photo for his ID card.” She gestured when Howard didn’t immediately move. “I look forward to showing you around on Monday,” she directed at Bucky, ignoring Howard’s disgruntled expression.

Bucky waved and a moment later he was alone with Peggy. He stuck his hands into his pockets waiting for her to face him.

“So…”

“So,” she repeated with a smile. “Well Captain Rogers. I should probably remind you about the nondisclosure agreement you signed upon taking the meeting.”

“Probably,” he repeated with an amused grin, making her laugh softly. “Well, _Agent_ ,” he stressed in a low voice, “I appreciate your consideration. It was nice to learn more about you and your work.”

She rolled her eyes, still smiling.

“I’ll show you to the elevator Captain,” she said, leading them out of the conference room and into the hall. “How about dinner? My place, tonight?”

He leaned into her just a touch.

“I can’t wait.”

He felt light all day, all through painting new office buildings for Miller in Long Island City, and all through volunteering to clean the mess the crew left on the ground floor. He’d still made it home with plenty of time to change for dinner.

He was surprised to find Peggy already home when he came in, and she had even set the dining room table with a smorgasbord of takeout.

“Wow. What’s the occasion?”

“Me starving,” she said with a pleasant laugh that made his chest warm. “We haven’t had a lot of time to just be together lately. I thought a hearty dinner would be a good start.”

He put down his set of keys and made his way to her in three long strides, reaching for her waist and picking her off the floor. Before she could comment he kissed her.

He breathed her in, the sound of her inhaling, the way her fingers curled into his hair, the soft warmth radiating between them.

“And what was that for?” she asked breathily, her hands resting on his shoulders.

“Just missed you.”

Peggy grinned so brightly the warm feeling in his chest spread.

After a long dinner where they talked about nothing and laughed about everything, they settled side by side on her couch.

“So you’re okay with me not taking the job then?”

“It was your decision Steve. And as long as you’re sure, that’s good enough for me.”

“I realized that I wasn’t ready for that kind of change,” he told her. “I think in some ways, it’s like I’ve been more in denial about my PTSD than Bucky was. I still need to do some work. Some soul-searching. There are other things I think I want to prioritize.”

“That’s good Steve. I wouldn’t ever deny you that choice.”

“It doesn’t make you see me differently then?”

“No, taking charge of your life in your own way, and realizing the things you want might have changed doesn’t change the way I see you. In fact, it makes me think you’re feeling more in tune with yourself as a person again.”

“Yeah. I am. I think I really am,” he replied. “Thank you. For being supportive.”

“Always,” she said seriously. “Although I can understand not wanting to have to contend with me as your boss,” she teased.

He grinned at her. That would have decidedly been a workplace perk.

“I have no problems with you taking charge.”

“Really?” He felt her hand slide up his side, and he shivered.

“In fact, I think it’s one of the most attractive things about you.”

She hummed, her fingernails digging into his skin. “Go on.”

“Was the first thing that caught my attention,” he murmured, as she leaned in closer. “You on that elevator, dressing down a Senator with such conviction.” He faltered as her lips closed around his ear. “I was sure I had never been attracted to a stranger in my life. So focused on righting wrongs you never looked at me once.”

Her mouth left his skin and he was immediately disappointed, trying to reel her back in.

“That makes me feel awful.”

“What? No it’s a good story.”

She shook her head, rubbing his cheek. “But it sounds like I was so self-absorbed I couldn’t be bothered to notice you.”

He shrugged. “It’s not like you brushed me off. Trust me, I know the difference. You had important matters to work out.”

She leaned in and kissed him. “I suppose that’s true.” He melted into her, hands coming up to rest at her hips. “I remember hearing your laugh. I didn’t suppose it was in regards to something I said.”

He grinned at this beautiful, powerful force of nature sitting at his side, not seeming to understand just how clever and mesmerizing she was. How it had all called to him.

“You were sticking to your word. In full control, refusing to let anyone put you down,” he said. “And you know what else? You have a way with words Peggy Carter. Know what stuck with me long after that elevator ride? You said you knew your value. You don’t know how important it was to hear someone say that.”

“I… Steve.”

“The bossiness on top of that, well it was just a plus.” He stared into her eyes. “Besides, I was right. My girl’s been saving the world.”

She quirked her brow at him then swung herself onto his lap, knees pressing into his hips, lips seeking out his, deepening with each kiss. “If you like, I can provide you with some further bossiness on top.”

He inhaled sharply as she grinned down at him. Her palms ran down the sides of his neck, and onto his chest, hot breath against his cheek. He closed the gap and kissed her, hands at the small of her back urging her closer.

“Bedroom. Now,” she commanded.

“Yes ma’am.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know, I could apologize for the monstrous word count, but as it's the finale chapter (apart from the epilogue) I figure it can slide. I'm going to be taking a short break from this fic especially while I work on things for Steggy week. This probably won't effect my posting schedule too much, but I'd rather give a heads up.

 

**“… the miracle, where the secrets are: the paint itself, swished around, roughly, gently, layer on layer, thick or thin, not more than a quarter of an inch ever -- God can happen in that quarter of an inch—the occasional brush hair left embedded, colors mixed over each other, tones showing through, sometimes the weave of the linen revealing itself… Finally, the frame, translucent gilt or carved wood. The whole thing is done.”**   
**― Steve Martin, _An Object of Beauty_**

 

 

There’s nothing quite worse than having to wake to an early alarm, to have to shift out of the warm cocoon of blankets, on a cold autumn morning. To make matters worse, it meant leaving the warmth of the sleeping man in her bed. The sun was still fast asleep alongside her boyfriend, and Peggy felt a keen longing to stay wrapped in his arms, a genuine pain at parting. Oh, how much could change within a couple of seasons. She made a point to remember the longing, to keep it in the back of her mind. She’d have to find a morning to clear so she could spend it wrapped up in Steve.

She never did feel as comfortable and at ease as she did around Steve.

But duty called, and there was more work to be done than usual. The case that had kept her at the office much of the previous two weeks required her attention again. And that didn’t even take into consideration the two missions her team was prepping, nor the already active ones. She had a lot on her plate, including a new team member added to the mix. Although he was still on his probationary weeks, long days of training and dealing with Howard’s lab, Bucky had been officially reporting for duty.

The office had undergone some changes with the addition of Barnes to the team, with Thompson seemingly still figuring out whether he was on the ex-soldier’s side or against him. Luckily, she hadn’t had to mediate any disputes, as clearly Barnes could hold his own. It made matters significantly easier, knowing she wouldn’t have to clean up after a pissing contest, so much so that she’d brought Barnes into team meetings even though he was still under training. In fact, she felt a little devilish thrill to see Thompson not so comfortable what with Bucky not seeming the least bit concerned with him. Jack always could use a good kick to the ass. She still hadn’t forgotten the way he tried to throw her under the bus a few weeks ago.

 

“So? How’s the boyfriend?” Howard asked. “Has he changed his mind yet?”

It wasn’t the first time Howard had attempted this line of inquiry, refusing to stop trying to get her to make Steve reconsider SHIELD’s offer.

“Changed his mind about what?”

“Oh c’mon Peg. Tell me you seriously haven’t tried to convince him to join up.”

She frowned at him. “I haven’t. He made his decision. I respect it.”

“I know you’ve seen his record by now. You know it turned you on to see that long list of commendations.”

She narrowed her eyes at him so viciously he let out a nervous laugh. Sure, she was well versed in Steve’s military record. It didn’t change her mind though.

“I just don’t see why he took himself out of it since he’s physically perfect,” Howard said in exasperation.

“Howard, he has PTSD. He spent weeks unconscious. And he’s still healing from that. He served his country. He fought to try to bring freedom to those who deserved it. If he wants out, he deserves it. End of story.”

Howard must have heard the seriousness in her tone because for once, he didn’t push the issue. Instead, he nodded as if he finally understood and left her office in silence.

 

Peggy had been changing into comfy pajamas when she noticed Steve sitting up in her bed not with his sketchbook but a book.

“How’s therapy been?” she asked as she hung up the last of the clothes she hadn’t tossed into her hamper.

She could see vast improvement in him in the last few weeks, and he seemed eager to discuss progress he’d been making with his therapist. But they hadn’t discussed his therapy assignment since he first mentioned it, and now she couldn’t recall the last time she saw him sketching in his dream journal.

“Good,” he said distractedly.

He did however have another nightmare the night before, and she wondered if he’d documented it in his therapy journal.

“And the assignment? Did you remember to draw today?”

He set the book down and looked at her.

“I… No I didn’t.”

She didn’t want to push, but she thought it was important for him to remember to do the assignment.

She shrugged and slipped under the covers.

“Just a soft reminder,” she told him, leaning over to kiss his cheek. “How’s that been? Drawing depictions of dreams. I can’t imagine it’s easy. Do you pick a particular image?”

He nodded slowly. “Yeah… Sometimes I remember a lot, and I’ll draw different pieces as I remember them. With the nightmares there’s usually one particular image burned into my head, the whole thing one big mess in my head.”

Peggy leaned over to cup his cheek and brush her forehead against his. Once she pulled away he smiled softly.

“Do you think it’s helping? Maybe making more sense of them?” she asked.

He tilted his head as he considered this. “I think so. It’s good to learn not to just ignore or try to forget them. But actually confront what the nightmares and dreams actually are.” She nodded at him, holding his hand in both of hers. “Sometimes it’s really hard. Sometimes it’s not until I start sketching that I even realize what I dreamed.”

“But you’re keeping at it? That’s what counts Steve. You’re doing your best.”

“Yeah. I’m trying.”

She nodded. “And that’s why I was reminding you. Because I can see the little changes since you started meeting with the new therapist. I think it’s important that you keep up the progress. And that’s what you and I do. We support each other with the big and little things.”

“Support system,” he replied seriously.

That’s what they were. They were part of each other’s support system. They were partners, even through the messier parts of their beings. They each had to do the work themselves, but there was nothing better than having someone to walk with, someone to pull you out of your own head, a gently reminder that it was okay to reach for help. To deserve it. And Steve’s hugs, she swore, contained a magical property, one that actively soothed her body’s stress.

 

The next few days were hellish. She hadn’t been sleeping much again, spending a few nights on the couch in her office rather than going all the way home just for a few hours of sleep.

She’d been running on fumes, and when she saw Steve calling, realizing she hadn’t seen him in days, cutting calls to him to minimum, she slumped in her office chair and desperately sought out his voice on the other line.

The rants tumbled out of her before she realized it, stress having gotten the better of her.

“Peg, you sound exhausted,” he said.

“Well, I have been up all night,” she replied dryly.

He made a sound of disapproval. “Peggy.”

She sighed. “I just need to get a few more things done.”

“You’re going to burn yourself out if you don’t take a break.”

“I’ll take a break, I just have a lot to finish here first. It’ll be different in a day or two”

She tried to convince him she had it all under control before they hung up. She thought she did have it all under control. After all she could handle it.

The day fell away into night, ushering in another long, stressful day. The morning and early afternoon had passed in a flash before she realized she hadn’t eaten in hours and she had quite a few missed texts from Steve. Nursing a headache, fingers pinching between her brows, she called him.

“How long have you been working straight?” he asked as if he could immediately tell from the sound of her voice that she’d hadn’t taken it easy.

She sighed checking the time. “Don’t know, I’ve been running around since something like six-thirty. There’s just so much I needed to figure out.”

He sighed, and she felt the deep sound all the way in her stomach.

“Okay, Peggy, listen to me,” he started, calm but firm. “You’ve gone nine hours without a break. I am asking you to please go outside, into the fresh air, get yourself something to eat. Please. You’re not doing anyone, especially yourself any favors by burning yourself out. Go. Break. Fresh air and food. Clear your head. Okay?”

She sighed loudly into the phone. “Yes, of course, you’re right. I’ll go right now.”

“I mean it Peg. I’m asking you to do this. Right now.”

She nodded resolutely before realizing he couldn’t see her. “Putting on my coat as we speak. I promise.”

“Good. Take a few deep breaths.”

“Okay. Thank you Steve.”

“Support system,” he told her.

“Thank you Steve. I know I can be stubborn.”

He chuckled. “Go. Fresh air and food. I swear it’ll do wonders. Text me later.”

 

_What are you doing an hour and a half from now?_ She texted Steve.

_Probably painting. Why?_

_Want to take a break with me? I could use caffeine._

He sent her a full row of smiling emojis, which she was embarrassed to say made her heart pound. Nothing like her sweet, soft boyfriend to turn her insides into jelly.

Although the closest coffee shop was just around the corner from her SHIELD office, Steve beat her there, looking cozy in a knitted sweater and scarf, already holding two white and green paper cups.

He offered hers up with a smile but she set it immediately down on the table he managed to snag in the corner. She hugged him, nose brushing his neck, inhaling the soft, comforting masculine scent that was Steve.

“Good thing Starbucks is open so damn late,” she breathed.

He laughed. “I’d say it’s a good thing I know where you work now,” he murmured into her ear. “It means I can come meet you for a mid-evening break on nights you’re determined to see the sun rise.”

She huffed at him but leaned back into him, relaxing under the touch of his broad palms.

“Speaking of which. How’d you manage to get out of the office?”

“I scheduled it. Specifically with you in mind,” she told him, snagging her cup and sighing at the delight that was a hot latte on a rainy autumn night that was determined to last indefinitely.

“Did you now?”

She smiled up at him. “Yes. I needed to clear my head, as you so suggested. What better way than to see your lovely face?”

Months into a relationship and her words could still managed to turn his cheeks pink. She couldn’t deny she loved it, loved seeing his lashes flutter as a compliment seeped into his heart.

He reached for her hand, fingers folding into hers, thumb pressing gentle circles into her skin. It’s such a shame she didn’t get to see him more often. She missed waking in bed next to him. She missed the pillow talk. His arms pulled tight around her. The kisses to her neck.

She looked at him. He looked good in the sweater and scarf combo.

“Tell me you brought an umbrella.”

He grinned sheepishly. “I was kinda in a hurry. I have a hood,” he said, showing her the rain jacket he had draped on his chair. “Besides it’s hardly raining anymore.”

She looked out the window, at the drips against the glass, casting street lamps and tail lights into bright, blurry circles of color.

“I love the rain,” she told him.

“Feels like London?”

She hummed. “It reminds me of home,” she said. “Did you really get a coffee? Tell me it’s decaf.”

He grinned. “Hot chocolate. Extra whipped cream.”

“Oh that sounds perfect.”

“It’s cold enough tonight to enjoy one comfortably,” he said with a laugh. “Tea was always a ritual with ma, but hot chocolate, with those little bitty marshmallows, now those were the best nights.”

She smiled a little sadly at him. He didn’t talk about them much, but she knew he missed his parents very much, his mother in particular.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. I was sick a lot as a kid. Ear infections for whole stretches of winter for as long as I could remember. Ma and I would cuddle up with this knitted throw blanket she had since she was young, and we’d read books or tell stories. There was always light to be found even when I was miserably sick.”

She squeezed his hand before running her hand up his arm, resting against his shoulder.

“She liked the rain too. The storms used to scare me. She’d come into my room with hot chocolate, bubbly and warm, and she’d tell me how storms were just the sky working out its emotions. A few bangs, some thunderclap, lots of fat rain tears, and eventually, all calmed, leaving our world wet and smelling like nothing else.”

“Yes, there’s a very distinctive smell to rainfall. Crisp, fresh. Earthy.”

“And don’t forget the puddles for jumping in.”

Peggy grinned at him. “I’m sure you made your mother worry coming home drenched to the bone.”

“Oh yeah. Not amusing when she’d just managed to stave off my colds for a few days. But I couldn’t help it. It was so fun. Buck and I would do it all the way home from school.”

“You miss her.”

He nodded, his eyes a little heavy at the thought.

She kissed him, on the lips, in full view of the coffee shop. She hadn’t seen him in days. She couldn’t help it.

“She’d be very proud of you Steve. Very proud.”

He smiled so brightly at her, it gave off its own warm glow.

“How much time do we have left on this purposely scheduled meeting?” he asked her a few minutes later once the majority of their drinks had been drained.

She hummed, hand back to running up and down his arm. It was probably best to get back to the office sooner than later although she didn’t want to leave.

“I suppose I could spare you a few more minutes.”

“Oh could you now?” he asked with a chuckle.

The rain, still pattering against the window sporadically, had mostly let up, and she longed to be in it.

“How about a walk in the drizzle?”

He grinned and she took his hand, leading him out into the blustery night. The second they’re out of the doorway, Steve pulled her into him, his arm holding her tight. She turned her head and nuzzled against him, head resting against his scarf. Gentle drops roll down on them. She didn’t mind. He was cozy and there’s nothing more inviting than the draw of his warm chest.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a torrential downfall rumbled, rainfall so heavy it engulfed the street in seconds. Steve pulled his rain jacket off, holding it above their heads, mostly over hers.

“There,” he called out, jutting his chin in the direction of the nearest awning.

“Let’s make a dash for it!” she cried back.

“On three. One.”

“Two!”

“Three!” he called out and they ran, Steve perfectly in sync with her, narrowly avoiding the massive puddles that already formed.

They reached the awning in front of a closed storefront, the rain still slapping hard against the concrete. The block was deserted, the glow of streetlights reflected in the mess of water all across the sidewalk and street. They’re both giggling through their heavy breaths. Because of his gentlemanly insistence on keeping her dry, his head was soaked, blond hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks full of color and amusement. Before she knew it she was pulling him by the back of his neck, kissing him. Steve, never one to be far behind, still holding his jacket in one hand, cupped her cheek with the other, lips sure as they sought hers. She was breathless, and so desperate for the warmth of his touch, the heat of his tongue touching hers. She pulled him closer, her back hitting the window, his palm smacking against it not a second later. Cocooned against each other in the relative safety, she could practically feel the romantic element in the air as the steady showers continued around them.

When she pulled back for air, her chest was heaving. Peggy grinned up at him.

“Well that was certainly worth getting caught in the rain for.”

“No kidding,” he said.

They clutched each other close until the rain let up, her heart still beating rapidly even once she returned to her office.

She heeded his advice about taking time to take care of herself. She sets mandatory meal time reminders into her phone and stuck to them. She cleared off her desk of the loads of files, organizing them by urgent and low priority. Then she gave each member of her team new missions to analyze and oversee, including giving Bucky his first independent assignment. It’s the first time in many days she went home by dinnertime without feeling the overwhelming worry that something needed to be completed. After making sure Steve was aware she expected his company for dinner, she spent the rest of the cab ride to her place scheduling out the upcoming three days down to the minute so that she could spend a good few hours not thinking about work at home.

She kissed Steve for a long time in the foyer.

“I thought going out for dinner someplace requiring reservations would be nice, since we haven’t done that in a while. I thought it’d be good for us,” she told him, “but quite honestly, I haven’t been home in ages and I’ve missed it.”

He laughed, kissing her again, his fingers playing with the strings of the hoodie she had changed into, one she had pilfered from him.

“That’s so not a problem in my book,” he said.

She leaned into him, wrapping her arms tight around his waist.

“I’ve missed you,” she said once dinner was eaten, already curling up in her bed early in lieu of the movie they planned on watching.

Steve, still changing into pajamas, turned his head towards her. She liked the line of his profile against the line of his bare back. He kicked his pants away, not bothering to pull a shirt on before crawling in next to her. He reached for her, pulling her into him, limbs tangling, faces just inches apart. She let out a little sigh when Steve’s hands pressed into her back.

“Missed you too,” he said in a serious murmur.

“You know… I don’t think we’ve ever gone this long without seeing each other since we met.”

“Well there was that time you were out of town and I didn’t see you for a whole week,” he informed her. “But that was before we started dating.”

“It feels like that was a lot longer ago than it is.”

“I know.”

Peggy leaned in, capturing his bottom lip between hers. Steve let out a pleased noise that made her stomach quiver. Hands roamed, kisses deepening until Steve rolled them, propping himself up over her. He kept his gaze on her face, his right index finger smoothing hair behind her ear, thumb curling around her cheek.

“I’m going to work on keeping more of a balance,” she told him, her own hand coming up to cup his face. “I promise I’ll work on my workaholic tendencies.”

Steve kissed her gently.

“I know you have a hard job. I totally get that regular hours isn’t always a reality,” he said softly. “I can be flexible Peggy. But I care about you. And I just need to know that you’re taking care of yourself as best as you can.”

She bit her lip, nodding. “Your voice always helps. It’s easy to forget how productive I can be after giving myself a small break.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, I think we’re both kinda used to going head first into things. Easy to get tunnel vision.”

She brushed her fingers down his jaw, fingers curling into the short hair at his neck. His eyes fluttered closed. She wondered if he was clear on how important he was to her. How much she valued their relationship.

“Steve.” When his eyes opened, she pulled him closer. “You’re very important to me, Steve. I don’t want you to forget that.”

He didn’t say anything, only kissed her with renewed purpose, eager and earnest in his touch. She forgot the rest of what she had to say as she succumbed to his lips and trailing fingers.

After a while, both lying on their sides again facing each other, she remembered the other promise she wanted to make.

“I’m going to make an effort to make sure we add some more regular dates each week. Even if it’s just dinner. A real dinner. Half an hour minimum.”

“Okay. So long as when things stack up at work again, you just talk to me about it.”

“Deal.”

They fell asleep early and it was the first night ages that she slept nearly eight full hours, still managing enough time for a quick breakfast with Steve.

“Hey, so I know you can’t say much, but since you see him more than I do now, is Bucky doing alright?”

“He’s doing well. He’s meshing well with the team. And keeping up nicely.”

“Good. That’s good,” he replied. “We’ve started hitting the gym together regularly, since we otherwise hardly see each other. He says it’s been helping his shoulder a lot, and it’s probably a good idea for me to get more regular exercise again.”

She hummed, reaching over to trail her hand against his shirt.

“For a man who only recently started going to the gym regularly again, you sure have maintained a good definition to that lovely chest of yours.” His cheeks turned faintly pink, so she ran her hand further down. “I mean, of course yours abs aren’t shabby either. Of course, none of which really matters so long as you’re feeling good,” she said, hands still teasing.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “Don’t start what you can’t finish,” he warned in a low voice.

“Yes, you’re right,” she said, lifting her hand up to safer ground. “Although I would like nothing more than to finish.”

He growled impatiently and pulled her into his lap, giggling as he pressed wet kisses against her neck.

 

She stuck to her scheduling. Of course, meetings, work hours and her dates with Steve had their share of necessary rearrangements, as new priorities cropped up, but she had kept her promise in keeping him updated. It had been one of her personal priorities to make sure that her time with Steve was actually time with Steve, and not just with her phone. With each passing day, it became a little easier to delegate work, a little easier to trust that it could get on without her for an hour. It helped that she swore to Thompson that the next time he tried to railroad her, or anyone else on the team, she’d have him kicked out of the division once and for all. The look on his face when he tried to butter up an unamused Colonel Phillips had made her bite her lip hard to avoid bursting into gleeful laughter.

Peggy made reservations at an upscale Japanese restaurant for one of their dates, specifically choosing it for its romantic lighting and the need to dress up. They hadn’t done that in a while, and she had a perfect little black dress for the occasion. Having changed in her office on her way out, and fixing up her makeup in the back of the cab, she felt pretty proud of herself, especially when she had arrived at Steve’s not only on time, but nearly half an hour earlier than she told him to expect her.

Faint music could be heard from his door. She didn’t bother to knock, choosing to use the spare key he’d given her a few weeks earlier. The kitchen and living room were empty and the music, something classical, with a crescendo of strings, escaped from Steve’s cracked bedroom door.

She poked her head in, taking in the back of him, still in his work clothes, watching his head bob to the music, right hand poised with a paintbrush. She could just make out a canvas in front of him. The curiosity couldn’t be helped. Sure she’d seen him paint walls, and sketch in her presence on plenty of occasions, but she’d never seen him work directly on canvas.

Not wanting to startle him, Peggy knocked loudly on the door. His head whipped around.

“Hey!” he cried out, smile blooming on his face. He reached over to turn down the music and set down his palette. “I lost track of time.”

She shook her head. “I’m early. For once.” He walked over to press a kiss to her cheek. “What are you working on?”

“Oh. It’s the anniversary present for Ana. It’s getting there.”

He stepped to the side, and she gasped, taking another step forward. There was a beautiful landscape conveying a breezy sunshine filled day on a field of flowers, and there in the foreground was the exact likeness of Ana and Jarvis. It was breathtaking, and she didn’t know where to look first.

“Steve!” she cried, unable to express her amazement in words.

“It’s got a lot of work left. But it’s been really fun. That’s why I got so sucked in.”

Her eyes roamed the large canvas, taking in every minute detail, the flecked petals on the flowers, the blades of grass, the texture in the wooden house in the distance. The silhouettes of figures hovering to either side of the couple.

“Those are going to be Ana’s parents,” Steve explained. “I got the idea when Jarvis showed me their wedding album and how he had decided on it for their honeymoon because it was where Ana had spent summers during her childhood with her family.”

“Steve, this is…” She shook her head. “I’m no art critic. And I’m not sure I can properly express it in words. But this is beautiful. It’s so… rich. It’s honestly breathtaking.”

He smiled. “It’ll be better once it’s finished,” he told her modestly. “I’ve got my clothes hanging in the bathroom. I can be ready real quick.”

“Take your time,” she said as she checked her phone. “We still have almost an hour until our reservation. Go. Paint. Really. You know I like to watch.”

“Okay,” he said hesitantly. “But only for ten minutes more minutes, okay.”

“Ten minutes,” she said with a nod.

But at the ten minute mark, she didn’t immediately get his attention. He’d easily slipped back into intense focus, and she was fascinated. They had time, and she wasn’t compelled to break his work. After a few more minutes, he took a step back and then glanced at his own phone.

“Oh!” he cried, setting down his brush. “It’s been way more than ten minutes.”

She grinned sheepishly. “You were really in the thick of it. I hated to bother.”

He snorted. “It’s alright, it’s a good place to stop as any. Anyway we’ve got a date.”

It wasn’t until they arrived at the restaurant, as she handed over her knee length wool coat to coat check that Steve got a glance at the dress. Even in the dim lighting she could see the change in his expression as he inhaled sharply. She pushed her loose hair over her shoulder and reached back for his head. He took it, but then a moment later, his palm pressed against the small of her back.

“That’s some dress for me not have noticed it earlier” he murmured into her ear as they were ushered to their table.

She bit her lip and raised her brows. “Well you were very distracted.”

“You say that like I could possibly be anything but distracted now.”

She turned slightly, until their bodies just met, her eyes pointedly boring into his. “Dinner first,” she told him in a low voice. “I’ll distract you later.”

His grip on her tightened.

After dessert, the check paid, and they headed out of the restaurant and into the autumn night, Steve wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“You were right you know,” he said, “about us going out for dates more.”

“Oh?”

“Yup. Besides being nice to spend time with you, it reminds me just how much I want to go home with you too.”

A cheerful laugh escaped her, and she squeezed his hand. “Oh that’s a guaranteed thing, darling.”

 

Their rhythm remained on track for several weeks. Peggy felt, for the most part, that her schedule was under control, so much so, that when Bucky had given an explicit invitation to the next Barnes’ family dinner, seeing Steve’s excitement, she had added it to her schedule.

But the erratic nature of her line of work reared its ugly head again.

Peggy tapped the edge of her phone as it rang, pacing around her office, picking up and tossing necessary items into her bag.

“Hey Peggy!” Steve’s voice said cheerfully.

“Hi Steve,” she said, letting out a soft sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something’s come up,” she started. “I have to be in D.C. tonight.”

“Oh okay,” he said easily. “How long are going for?”

She bit her lip and sat down in her chair. “Through the weekend,” she finally said.

“But…” There was a moment of silence she didn’t like, and then what sounded like Steve clearing his throat. “So you won’t make it to the dinner.”

“I’m so sorry Steve. I swear this is urgent and I’m needed specifically. If I could send something in my place I would. Really. Steve, I swear—”

“I believe you Peggy,” he cut her off. “It’s fine. I understand.”

She let out another sigh. “I really am sorry Steve.”

“I know. It’s okay, you can’t help it.”

“Could you please relay my apologies to Bucky’s mother? I know it’s rude to not show up when it’s been planned for a few weeks now.”

“I will. It’s okay Peggy. I know the job comes first.” She couldn’t find the right words to respond. Because the job did have to come first. But it didn’t mean Steve wasn’t her top priority either. “So I guess I won’t catch you tonight?”

“I suppose not. I’m only headed home to grab my luggage on the way to the airport.”

“Alright. Well, text me when you get in?”

“I will,” she promised, holding back another string of sighs and groveling. “I’ll call you later.”

“Okay, have a safe flight Peg.”

She knew Steve was understanding, that he respected her position, but still, as she sat there once the call ended, she felt terrible. There was nothing for it. The situation was urgent, and she had no time to dwell on it. She packed up the last of her necessary files and marched out of the office.

 

She arrived back to New York exhausted and sleep deprived, heading right back to work urgently needing to brief her team.

“How was the dinner?” she asked Barnes when he delivered his reports later in the day.

He shrugged. “Same old Barnes’ family shenanigans as always. You missed out on my ma’s famous pot roast.”

He was grinning, but still, she felt a pinch in her stomach.

“Does she know terribly sorry I am for not showing?”

“She knows something came up you couldn’t get out of,” he replied with a nod. It didn’t feel very reassuring.

“And how upset is Steve?”

An amused look flashed over his features.

“Can’t lie Carter. I know he was pretty excited about it,” he said making her sigh. “But he understands. And anyway, trust me I get it. Most people don’t usually actually have shit that’s more important than whatever they’re trying to skip out on. But you do. And you really had no other option in this case.”

Despite his support, she huffed and fell back into her chair.

“Can we reschedule? Or has your mother already decided to dislike me forever?”

Bucky just shrugged and grinned in his infuriating manner, the one that showed he was amused because it was likely to cause amusing drama.

“Relax Carter. I’m sure you’ll still be invited to the next one.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Don’t use that tone with me Barnes, or you’re going to go on the special list of mine that so far is exclusively relegated to Thompson.”

Bucky snickered, scooped up the reports that she had signed and headed out, still smirking at her.

Although she was desperate for a bath and a change of clothes, she headed directly to Steve’s the moment she could spring herself free. She made a point to hug him tight, and ask eager questions about the contents of the dinner she had missed.

“We’ll reschedule. Next one I will be there come hell or high water.”

He looked at her a little warily, as if he knew she couldn’t hold to that kind of promise, as the unexpected could always happen.

“I’m serious Steve. I already told Bucky to tell his mother. Next one. I’ll schedule ahead. I’ll put someone else in charge to hold down the fort for that night.”

“Alright,” he said, still hesitant.

She could only imagine what Mrs. Barnes thought of her already for skipping out on meeting what was effectively her boyfriend’s family. She couldn’t miss the next one for anything short of world catastrophe.

 

A dinner date was set, Bucky specifically consulting her on his mother’s behalf several times to aid her attendance. Peggy had blocked out the evening in question, specifically planning ahead of time to leave Sousa in charge for the night. She even spent a good hour of her time shopping for an appropriate outfit to wear.

“You don’t have to worry about Buck’s parents. They’re pretty easygoing,” Steve had said when she mentioned purchasing a new dress. “And you’ll like his sisters. I mean of course, Becca who’s in her third trimester has been particularly um… maternal, I guess? She’s been getting a jump on nesting. Apparently took up knitting for the first time for her nerves, but her fingers are swollen so she hasn’t finished anything,” he told her. “And Grace is very calm and collected and sweet. His youngest though, Elise, she’s a little spitfire. Very outgoing and loves to argue. She’s constantly told she should go to law school, but she likes to say she’s morally against lawyers and refuses to fight for the benefit of capitalistic greed.”

“There are plenty of good sections of the law that could use an intelligent, independently-minded woman. Civil rights for example. Or criminal law, holding banks accountable for the devastation they’ve otherwise gotten away with.”

Steve grinned. “You should remind her of that. She might take the suggestion more seriously from another powerful woman.”

She filed every detail away, as if studying up on a case. But still, unbelievably, she, Peggy Carter, known for taking down criminals of all calibers, as the dinner came closer, felt a nervous pinch in her gut grow.

She asked Bucky if there was something she could bring his mother, a dessert or flowers, but he just chuckled and unhelpfully said she didn’t need to do that. She saddled him with extra work that afternoon for being unhelpful and went to Steve for his more helpful input.

 

The Friday of the Barnes’ family dinner, started with Peggy’s having a hectic morning. She and Stark had a slew of morning meetings, having little time to prepare for them in the car as Jarvis shuttled them to and fro. Then while Howard was dropped back at headquarters, she continued to be chauffeured to another appointment. Nearing the location of her meeting, she suddenly remembered she had forgotten to pick up the cupcakes she specially ordered from the bakery she and Steve picked.

“Leave me the address Ms. Carter. I shall pick them up in your stead and have them safely in possession before the end of your meeting.”

She didn’t have time to breathe in relief, as she sped into the building.

With all her meetings finished for the day, and Jarvis pointing to the bakery box securely resting in the backseat, everything felt better.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“As always, I am happy to be of service,” he said before pressing a smaller box into her lap. She opened it to find an array of cookies. “I decided some sugar was necessary before getting back to the office.”

She wolfed two down in a hurry, sinking back in the passenger seat with a sigh of relief.

 

Bucky had left over an hour ago to go home and change. Then Steve called and she had to tell them to leave without her that she’d get a car to drive her down to Brooklyn. She was running late. She wouldn’t be early like they planned to be, but she was determined to still make it on time. Peggy stormed out of her office in a hurry only to run into Jarvis.

“Shall we head to Brooklyn then Ms. Carter?”

While there were plenty of solutions to everyday problems in her book, traffic was one she was not equipped to fight, granted it was her fault for leaving the office so late.

“Have I mentioned that I am eternally grateful Mr. Jarvis for offering to drive me to Brooklyn?”

“Yes well, Mr. Barnes had stressed to me that it was of vital importance that you showed up tonight.”

She swiveled her head towards Jarvis so fast it hurt her neck.

“Barnes said what?” Jarvis’ eyes alit with amusement. “Oh ha ha. I don’t appreciate you being in cahoots with him, Mr. Jarvis. What did he actually say? And when?”

“He happened to be telling Mr. Stark that you were due to meet the Barnes clan for dinner, assuring me it’d be a sight to see to have Mr. Rogers bring a lady friend for the first time,” Jarvis said. “And then when five o’clock came and went, and you hadn’t left your office, Mr. Barnes asked me to make sure you left at a proper time.”

Peggy groaned.

“Well, I’m sure they will be thrilled with my manners,” she muttered sarcastically. “I didn’t mean to run late you know. I had set aside plenty of time. I brought everything to the office with me in preparation. Who knew Senator Brandt, after months of avoiding me decided now was the time he was going to take my long offered advice?”

“Well, he is up for reelection.”

“Bloody wanker should be nowhere near civil service.”

“I’m sure they will look past your tardiness once they see your respect and adoration for Mr. Rogers.”

She turned her head to hide what she knew had to be a growing blush. The knot in her stomach that had been building all week, made itself known again. Peggy tapped her nails impatiently against the window.

“You’re oddly quiet,” he noted after another fifteen minutes of bumper-to-bumper traffic. She only hummed in response. “Forgive me, but are you concerned about meeting the family, as they say?”

She shot him a murderous look and focused on her phone where she sent another reassuring text to Steve that was definitely not bailing, only stuck in traffic leaving Manhattan.

After another few minutes she sighed.

“Alright. I suppose I am the tad bit worried,” she admitted in a huff. “It’s been a long time, a lifetime really, since I’ve had to make a favorable impression upon a boyfriend’s family. I am decidedly out of practice.”

“You have nothing to worry about Ms. Carter. You make a lovely first impression. Even supposing it’s through a punch in the face.”

“I stand by the lesson I had to teach you. I do not advise forgoing announcing yourself first to a woman in a dark alley.”

“Naturally, Ms. Carter. You’re quite right,” he said cheerfully. “It’s perfectly normal to feel nerves before this sort of step in a relationship.”

“Could we please talk about something else?”

“Of course Ms. Carter.”

He tapped on the steering wheel while Peggy stared out the windows, willing the traffic to move. There was no use for it. She couldn’t do anything about it. She needed a distraction.

“I haven’t seen Ana in a few weeks. Did you two enjoy your anniversary celebration?”

Jarvis immediately lit up at the mention of his wife.

“We had a splendid time. Dinner and dancing until all hours of the night.”

She cracked a smile. “I watched Steve work on your painting.”

“Oh, your Mr. Rogers is an incredible artist. It was the most splendid gift. For both of us. Ana was happy with tears with his work. And most especially at his marvelous addition of her parents and family to the joyous history of our relationship.”

“He’s very good at that, at connecting his art with emotion. At making it resonate with the viewer,” she said, an image of Steve painting floating in her head. “I’m thrilled it went over well as I hoped it would.”

“Oh it’s spectacular addition to our drawing room. I fear Ana will be pestering him for more beautiful pictures.”

She laughed. “I can’t fault her for that.”

“He’s a wonderful man,” Jarvis said in a serious tone, meeting her eye with a smile.

She knew exactly the extent of Jarvis’ message, and oddly enough, the sentiment, more than approval, caused butterflies in her stomach. She didn’t need any approval of Steve other than the gut feeling she’s had for months about their relationship. Still, it was nice to know Jarvis, whose friendship and advice she’d come to rely upon, was happy for her.  
“Suppose…” she started, biting her lip and looking away from Jarvis. She shook her head, trying to cast the nerves away. “Suppose they don’t take to me.”

Jarvis was quiet a moment. “Ms. Carter, I strongly believe that once they get to know you, there is far and away not a chance they will not be utterly charmed by your exceptional personage.”

There was another flutter in the pit of her stomach. Her friend smiled encouragingly at her.

“You suppose it will all be well then.”

“You care for Mr. Rogers very much. And I know he cares for you in the same manner. That alone will ensure that everything ends up just fine indeed.”

She smiled. After a moment she sent another quick message to Steve. It contained only a heart.

Traffic ebbed once they were well into the neighborhoods of Brooklyn, and although she would still be considered late, it was not nearly the disaster she had anticipated.

“Thank you again, Mr. Jarvis,” she said. “Perhaps the four of us could meet for dinner sometime soon.”

“Ana and I would be most delighted, Ms. Carter,” he replied with a wide smile.

With a final wave, making sure she had the bakery box with her, she took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

She could hear commotion almost immediately. A woman opened the door with a kind smile, and familiar blue eyes.

“Ah, the famous Peggy at last,” she said cheerfully. “Come in dear,” she continued, ushering her inside.

“Good evening. You must be Mrs. Barnes. It’s lovely to finally meet you,” Peggy said. “I am so sorry for my lateness, you see I—”

Before she could finish her apology, three other women flocked the front hall, right behind Mrs. Barnes. She was fairly certain they were Bucky’s sisters, one very heavily pregnant at the forefront, swatting at the arms of the other two.

“She looks just like the picture,” one whispered not particularly quietly.

“Well no shit Grace, that’s what photos do,” another hissed.

“Honestly you two,” the pregnant sister huffed with a roll of her eyes. “Hello! We’re so glad you could make it. I’m Bucky’s sister Becca,” she said at the same time as her mother took Peggy by the shoulders and squeezed. “Ma! Let her all the way in first.”

“Jeeze,” the shorter of the other two said with her own eye roll. “Give her a minute before you bombard her—”

“I wasn’t bombarding, I was simply greeting—”

“Give Ma a break Elise!” Grace scolded.

“—you could still give her a freakin’ second.”

“Really it’s okay—” Peggy tried.

“Let me take that for you,” Becca said over them, taking the bakery box from Peggy.

“Peggy!” she heard Steve’s voice over the commotion, and she immediately relaxed. “You made it,” he said, squeezing his way to her with a smile, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek.

The foyer burst into a chorus of awws to Peggy’s horror. Steve continued to grin, and how could she deny him this. To think he’d never brought a girl to one of these dinners. He helped her out of her coat while Mrs. Barnes shooed her daughters back into the dining room.

“Never you mind them,” she said. “There’s just quite a bit of excitement in finally meeting the woman that has Steve here head over heels.”

Steve pinked slightly and Mrs. Barnes winked at her.

“I do apologize again for missing the last dinner.”

Mrs. Barnes waved her hand, and led them into the packed dining room. There had to be nearly twenty people around the three pushed together tables. Steve guided her to the seat he saved for her next to him as everyone openly watched the two of them shimmy into their seats. She hoped her face wasn’t all red. While she made herself comfortable in the seat, Peggy looked up to meet Bucky’s gaze, smirking at her from across the table. She wanted to wipe it off of him, but she didn’t dare so much as glare at him, not while she still needed to make up for her first impression of tardiness.

“I hope I haven’t missed much,” Peggy told the crowd. “Traffic was unbelievable.”

“You missed saying grace!” one of the kids, a boy, chirped out. “And soup! We always start with soup!”

“Relax Nate. Peggy has a really hard job and sometimes she has to stay late to make sure good people are getting help,” Bucky said, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s head. “Besides, what’s she supposed to do about traffic huh? Think she might have needed Spiderman’s help.”

Nate made loud noises and extended his arms out. “Spidey would swoosh you here with his webs in seconds!”

Peggy grinned at him. “Well then, I sure know who to call in an emergency.”

The boy grinned back. “Spidey can save the day!” He poked Bucky’s prosthetic. “And this is my robot sidekick! Robots don’t have to be made out of metal you know.”

Bucky snorted and drew the boy’s attention back to his plate. Peggy caught his mother looking over with a careful gaze and a smile.

While Mrs. Barnes rattled off introductions, Becca carried in a still hot bowl of soup for her. It’s hard to eat with the amount of eyes on her, and questions, but that part, reminded Peggy so much of work meetings that she wasn’t fazed.

“So how exactly did you meet our Steve?” Becca asked once she was back in her seat next to her husband Ben.

“Buck already told you this story,” Steve said with a slight groan.

“Sure, we got Bucky’s take on it. But I want to hear Peggy’s side,” Becca replied.

“Especially since you’ve never brought a girl home,” the shortest sister, Bucky’s youngest, Elise said. “Plus we’re nosy.”

“Well you know what they say about being nosy,” Steve said sarcastically.

“No, I don’t,” Elise said. “What exactly do they say about being nosy Steve?”

“That you should stop digging around for boogers Elise,” Bucky said with his mouth full of bread.

“Ew!” Elise cried out. “You’re such a typical gross guy.”

“Yeah and you’re sticking your fingers in someone else’s business Elsie.”

“Don’t call me Elsie!”

“Don’t disrespect your typical gross older brother then.”

“Come on guys! Steve’s girlfriend’s been here for all of five minutes and you two are already making us look bad,” Bucky’s middle sister Grace called out.

Peggy watched on in amusement as Becca rolled her eyes at the whole exchange and muttered something to her husband.

“Her full name’s Elizabeth, but Buck gave her the nickname Elsie since she was a kid,” Steve murmured in her ear. “She got bullied a lot, especially in high school when she came out. Buck picked her up once and this asshole kid that always gave her a hard time didn’t realize the tall, athletic guy was her brother and called her a terrible slur.”

“That’s horrible,” she murmured back.

Steve nodded. “The guy didn’t stand a chance. Didn’t know Buck and I had already joined up. He grabbed him by the arm, vowing if he ever heard that he’d called anyone especially Elise that again he’d be sorry, then marched him all the way back to the principal’s office. Anyway she decided to go by Elise somewhere around her senior year, but nothing like Buck to embarrass her with a childhood nickname.”

“So Peggy,” Mrs. Barnes said, ignoring her still squabbling adult children, “I believe Steve worked on your apartment?”

Peggy shot a smile at Steve who’d gone quiet.

“Yes. The owner of my building neglected to give me a heads up on the remodeling he wanted, but then there was this very polite, very sweet painter who made the whole experience much nicer.” She could feel Steve rubbing his hands together nervously so she took hold of one of his hands. “I liked watching him work, and then we started talking regularly. I asked him to have a cup of tea with me one day and well, we ending up connecting and well… I suppose it grew naturally from there.”

“And you made him paint you flowers,” Bucky added.

“Buck!” Steve groaned.

“No, he’s not wrong. And I’m not ashamed of wanting to keep you around in any way I could think of at the time.”

There was a general chorus of oohing and she didn’t have to turn to know that Steve was blushing hard. She squeezed his hand, quirking her brow at him in amusement. His face might have been bright red but she could see just how pleased her words made him. That made it all worth it.

“Well however it happened, we’re so grateful to know how much you’ve done for our boys,” Mrs. Barnes said.

“Yeah!” Becca said. “Bucky told us all about how much you’ve done for him. Between the new job and helping him get a better prosthetic, you can’t imagine how thankful we are.”

Peggy blinked, confused at her words. “I—”

“And caring about Steve too of course,” Grace added.

“Yes, we owe you a lot of gratitude for giving them all those opportunities,” Mrs. Barnes said sagely. “We’re so glad you came into Steve’s life.”

The praise made her uncomfortable, especially when Howard had been the catalyst for the changes in Bucky’s life. But when she met Bucky’s eye across the table, he nodded subtly at her. She immediately understood that she was supposed to go along with the way he had presented the story to his family. But there was something else in his look. Something in the way he didn’t rib his sisters for gushing. She felt Steve squeeze her hand under the table.

“I’m glad to know them too,” Peggy said.

Dinner progressed, with Mrs. Barnes having to call attention to the group, including Bucky’s father, who’d been staring at the game that was playing on the muted TV in the far corner of the room.

After a while, it started to feel like family, listening to the back and forth bickering, the overflowing conversation. She felt part of it. She witnessed the rowdy nieces and nephews from Steve’s drawings, and the characters of the family, like Bucky’s Uncle Jimmy, with his impressive beard. She hadn’t felt anything like it in ages. And all the worry of making a good impression fell away, especially as she saw the ease in Steve, that of worn-in comfort. These were people he’d spent so much time with, the family he’d kept even after the passing of both his parents. It’s definitely the most delightful dinner she’d been to in ages, a complete opposite of the abundance of smarmy work dinners to attend in the last few weeks.

“So did you grow up in London?” Elise asked at one point.

“Yes. My family’s from Hampstead. We’re not particularly posh, mind you I had a comfortable upbringing, but the house I grew up in has been in my father’s family for more than a hundred years.”

“That is awesome!” Elise said. “Jessi and I so totally want to go to London.”

“It must be difficult for your family to have you so far away,” Bucky’s mom said. “Have you visited home recently?”

“Unfortunately work has kept me rather occupied. I suppose it’s been nearly two years since I’ve been back to England.”

“Do you have any brothers or sisters Peggy?” Becca asked.

She thought of Michael, of her best friend growing up, of their adventures running around the heath in pursuit of dragons. She remembered him as a young man, of announcing he was joining the army on his twenty-first birthday, weeks from graduating from University.

“My brother died in the line of duty a few years back,” she told them, feeling Steve’s arm reach around her.

There’s a general murmur of sympathy, Bucky giving a sympathetic look, but it was Mrs. Barnes that nodded gravely, looking straight into her eyes.

“I’m very sorry for your loss, my dear.”

But it felt good to share, even about her losses. With Steve at her side, even Bucky smirking at them all throughout dinner, she felt the warm sense of family.

Elise and Jessi both continued to grill her about things to see in London, and discussing various plays they wanted to see, many of which frankly Peggy hadn’t the foggiest about.

Bucky helped refill drinks around the table, easily uncapping beer bottles, topping off wine glasses, sliding juice boxes to the kids, while his mother announced she’d put on a pot of coffee.

“I’ll do it mom,” Becca said. “It’s time for dessert anyway.”

Despite plenty of offers of help, and urges for her to sit, Becca refused and headed into the kitchen. After a few minutes without reappearing, a crash sounded from the kitchen.

“Becca?” her husband called in concern, already getting up from the table.

“I’m fine!” she yelled back. “I just dropped a plate.”

“I’ll go clean it up,” Grace said, rushing into the kitchen.

After a few minutes, with Becca muttering in a disgruntled tone, came back with dessert, Grace trailing behind her.

The kids made a beeline for the cupcakes she brought, while Mrs. Barnes cut the cake. Peggy ate her slice so fast, that Mrs. Barnes gave her the first second-helping. She was about to compliment Becca on her baking skills when she noticed that Becca’s expression was taut and she was looking resolutely into her lap.

Not a minute later, Becca let out a loud yelp. It silenced the entire room before it broke out in a chorus of concern.

“It’s just a cramp. It’s passed,” she said flippantly. “Let me go make some more coffee.” She hadn’t made it two steps away from her seat before she cried out again.

“Becca?” her husband called.

“No! No, no, no! I think… my water just broke.”

Chaos ensued. Her husband, looking very pale, sat frozen in his seat.

“Becca, dear, you need to breathe,” Mrs. Barnes was saying to no avail.

“No! This is too soon. I’m not dude for another seven weeks!”

“Becca, you know babies come when they’re ready.”

“No! It’s not ready. I’m not ready. Seven weeks early!”

“You know the statistics on lots of early babies—” Elise started only for Becca to start sobbing.

“Shut up!”

“I’m just saying! Don’t panic!” Elise cried out exasperated, crossing her arms.

“Babe—” her girlfriend tried to say.

“Don’t tell me not to panic!” Becca yelled.

“Rebecca, you need to breathe.”

The chaos continued, as some of the kids started crying in all the uproar, Mrs. Barnes still trying to calm her daughter.

“We don’t even have our hospital bag! We’re not ready! This isn’t supposed to happen.”

“Oh my god! She needs to go already!” Elise said.

“Jesus give her a minute!” Bucky shouted.

“Shut up, what do you know about having a baby? Just because you’re a privileged male—”

Peggy had enough, and she shoved her chair back as she stood. “Alright enough!” she shouted causing the room to go silent except for Becca’s sobs and stifled sounds of pain. “Becca’s in labor. Now who has a car?”

Dutifully Becca’s still shell-shocked husband and a few others shot their hands up.

“Ben’s too emotional to drive. Who’s good under pressure?” No one really responded, all still looking nervously between Peggy’s commanding voice and Becca sobbing in pain. It was then that she noticed the wine and whiskey glasses still in many of their hands.

“Peg—” Steve started already standing up.

“Not you Steve. I need you and Bucky to go get Becca’s hospital bag and then come meet us at the hospital.”

Bucky stood immediately, Grace handing him the keys to her car.

“You got it Carter,” Bucky said, immediately having to ward off a jumping Nate who wanted to come for a ride.

“Sod it. I’ll drive,” Peggy said holding her hand out for Ben to hand over his keys, his hands shaking uncontrollably. “Mrs. Barnes, if you could help me lead Becca.”

“What about the rest of us?” Elise asked.

“Make yourselves useful. Dinner needs to be cleaned. We’ll call when Becca’s settled in. Come along Ben.”

They all seemed to snap into focus as she and Mrs. Barnes carefully led Becca out to the car, her husband trailing behind them in a nervous flurry. She sent him to sit in the back with Becca, urging him to try to get her to relax while Mrs. Barnes hurried around into the passenger seat. It took all three of them continually coaching Becca to get her to breathe through the panic and contractions.

Once Becca was safely wheeled inside, and Peggy had parked the car she made her way towards the waiting room.

“Peggy!” she heard some minutes later, relieved to see Steve and Bucky walking her way. Bucky carried a large bag over his shoulder.

“How’s Becca?” Bucky asked.

“Pretty excited about the epidural I’m sure. Her contractions are still about four or five minutes apart,” Peggy replied.

“Did they say anything about the baby? Seven weeks early…” Bucky looked concerned, as did Steve.

“I’m not sure,” she said, then waved her hand down the corridor. “They’re in the third room on the right. I’m sure your mom will know more.”

Bucky nodded and took off with the bag. Once he was gone, Steve leaned in for a hug.

“Thanks for this. I know this isn’t how you expected to spend a family dinner,” he said.

“What? Ushering in new members of the Barnes family?” They laughed. “It’s fine. It’s not like poor Becca had any choice about the matter.”

Steve nodded, his brows heavy to match his face. She had a feeling everyone was going to be on tenterhooks until this baby showed up.

“Come, sit with me,” she said, ushering Steve into a seat and pushing Mrs. Barnes’ phone into his hand. He needed a distraction. “I’m supposed to be giving updates or something. You can help, I’m sure you know these family members better than I do.” He grinned at her and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then another to her cheek, before taking over the texting.

Bucky returned with a heavy expression of his own, dropping into a seat across from Steve and reliving him of texting duty.

“Any news?” Peggy asked.

“Not much yet. The ultrasound only shows so much. Basically gotta wait and see once the baby’s born. Lung development seems to be the biggest concern right now.”

Steve inhaled sharply, and she automatically reached for his hand giving him a squeeze.

Bucky pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fuck,” he mumbled. “I hate hospitals.”

“Do you wanna get out of here Buck?” Steve asked.

“No. No I should be here,” he replied firmly but then sighed. “Becca’s gotta calm down though. Her blood pressure’s through the roof. Plenty of preemies come out fine. Right?”

Peggy nodded. “Sure they do. And with modern medicine, even very premature babies can be saved.” She noticed him flinch slightly. “But I’m sure once she relaxes, everything will be fine. That baby’s got plenty of family looking out for it. That’s not nothing.”

He cracked a smile. “Thanks for taking charge back there Carter. Nothing like panic to scramble my entire family into dopes.”

She shook her head. “Nothing for it. In fact, an early baby might take the heat off me being late in your mother’s eyes.”

The boys snorted and she felt Steve curl his arm around her shoulders.

“Yup. You’re going to be eternally in the Barnes’ family good graces from this point. Saved the whacked out son from living off disability for the rest of his life, and got Becca to the hospital in time. Yup, you’re gold Carter.”

“Barnes, you know Howard had more to do with the matter initially than I did.”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Wouldn’t have happened without you.”

“It’s true,” Steve agreed.

She wanted to disagree but Bucky shot her disapproving look.

“Anyway, it sure helps that Ma likes how happy you make Steve. _Such an adorable couple_ ,” he mimicked. “She’s an old softy like that.”

Peggy rolled her eyes.

Hours went by, and while Becca was in active labor, it seems to be progressing at a snail’s pace, sure to drive the already anxious mother-to-be into further agitation. The waiting room grew more and more crammed full of the Barnes’ family. Some stayed in vigil in short bursts, others had been there dutifully awaiting news for hours. Peggy herself has taken both Steve and Bucky on a walk to the vending machines, and outside for fresh air several times.

Midnight came and went, and still the waiting room was full of family. Elise had been sitting in between her brother and her girlfriend, her head resting on Bucky’s shoulder, while Jessi held her hand, reading to them from the stack of waiting room magazines she rounded up. Peggy listened to her steady voice read articles, holding Steve close, his eyes closed as he rested his head on her shoulder. The later the hour became, the more the waiting room became subdued.

Then breaking the silence for the first time in hours, loud footsteps approached. Ben ran into the room, breathless, tears running down his face paired with a bright smile. Bucky stood, ramrod straight.

“She’s a healthy girl! Her name’s Winnie.”

The atmosphere changed in a split second. The room erupted into cheers and happy gasps.

“They named her after mom,” Grace said through tears, reaching out to pull Elise into a hug.

Steve had buried his face against Peggy’s neck, and she held him in a tight hug, listening as his breathing relaxed, the tension in his back lessening with every second.

Ben headed back to his wife and newborn daughter as Mrs. Barnes came into the room. Bucky headed over to her, hugging her tight, whispering into her ear.

Steve met her eyes, and Peggy wiped a stray tear off his cheek with her thumb, leaning in to press a brief kiss to his lips. The two of them stay wrapped up in each other’s arms as family members heading in pairs to check in on Becca and meet baby Winnie.

“Thank you for staying,” Steve murmured into her ear.

“Of course,” she said, squeezing his hand. “Work’s under control at the moment. And I promised you I’d be at this dinner. Which became a birthday party of sorts.”

He laughed. “I’m so glad both she and Becca are okay.”

“Me too, Steve.”

After a while, after listening to the excited chatter and descriptions of the baby from family members on their way home to rest, Bucky told them Becca was asking for them.

Becca grinned tiredly at both of them. Bucky had the swaddled pink baby, with a matching pastel pink hat, cradled in his arms.

“I’m glad you’re still here Steve. You too Peggy.”

Steve walked over to take Becca’s hand. “I’m so happy for you Becca. How are you feeling?”

“Much better now that she’s here.”

“She’s beautiful,” Peggy said softly, still watching the intent focus on Bucky’s face as he held his newborn niece. He never looked away from her face. There was something extremely peaceful in his expression, a gently joy, as he carefully swayed the snoozing girl.

“Oh Peggy,” Becca cried out. “What would I have done without you?”

“I’m very sure I offered absolutely no help in delivering her,” she said dryly.

Becca chuckled and reached for her daughter. “Bucky!” she had to call out to get his attention. "Hand over my baby, Uncle Greedy,” she said with a smile.

Bucky was reluctant to hand her over. Once Winnie was in the care of her mother, Becca waved Peggy closer. She had expected to view the baby from afar, only to have Becca thrust the baby into her arms. Her eyes widened and she looked over at Steve for help only for him to grin and do nothing.

“I—” she tried to protest.

“Hey Winnie,” Becca murmured. “This is Peggy. She’s your Uncle Steve’s girlfriend. So she’s kind of like your Auntie. Especially since she made sure your mama got to the hospital in time to bring you into this world nice and safe.”

Peggy silently pleaded with Steve, getting more nervous by the second as the baby started to squirm. She felt him come up right behind her, hoping he’d take her, only for him to rearrange her arms, his hands sure and strong, murmuring gently about needing to support the head.

“She’s gorgeous Bec,” Steve whispered, his hand reaching around to trail a finger against her chubby cheek. The girl sniffed, turning into his touch.

“Doctors want us to stay a couple days just to make sure everything’s okay,” she heard Becca say as she focused back on the tiny human being in her arms, Steve’s palm larger than her head. “But your Uncles are going to always be there to protect you.”

Peggy heard Steve sniff behind her. Having her fill of awkwardly trying to hold a baby, she pressed the girl into Steve’s ready arms, watching him as he cuddled her up toward his chest. The visual was so striking, she had to step back, turning purposefully to focus on Becca, asking her questions, trying desperately not to tempt herself into watching Steve.

Despite all of them being tired, there’s a good mood in the air when they left Becca and Ben to their daughter.

“You’re exhausted. I’m going to get us a car back to Manhattan,” Peggy said to Steve who’d been rubbing at his eyes. “Want to share a ride Bucky?”

“Thanks, but I’m going to stay and crash at my parents’ for the rest of the weekend,” he said. “But thanks for being here. Both of you. And Carter, welcome to the Barnes’ family,” he added with a lopsided grin. “I’ve already got three sisters, what’s one more.”

“Remember that special list of mine?” she said narrowing her eyes.

He winked at her. “Whatever you say, sis.”

She shook her head at him. “I’ll see you on Monday, Barnes.”

Steve pulled his friend into a hug. “Looks like you’re finally Uncle Buck,” Steve said with a grin making Bucky snort. “Congrats Buck. You’re gonna be a great Uncle.”

After saying last goodbyes, Peggy being pulled in for as many hugs as Steve was, he reached for her hand and they started out of the waiting room. She watched as Steve took one more glance over at Bucky who was laughing and hugging his sisters.

“I’ve never seen him like this,” she admitted to Steve.

He nodded with a smile. “I think tonight, holding his niece for the first time, I think Buck’s finally found his way home.”

There’s a sureness, conviction, in his words that make his statement stick in her head.

Steve dozed off on the drive back while Peggy took the opportunity to check back in with Sousa. Steve was barely able to keep his eyes open by the time they made it to her place, but he still felt compelled to shower first. She settled in bed waiting for him.

Steve finally dropped onto her bed with a sigh. “What a day. Or night. Or day. I mean it is morning.” He chuckled at himself and curled up against her, pressing a kiss to her shoulder. “A brand new Barnes baby. Or well, she’ll be a Proctor. You know what I mean. Man what a long day.”

She smiled at his woozy words, kissing him gently.

“Can I ask you something?”

He propped himself up on his elbow. “Of course.”

“You said you thought Bucky had finally come home. What did you mean by that?”

He hummed, brushing his hand over her cheek before settling back against the pillow.

“That he’d finally come home from the war,” Steve told her. “I mean emotionally. Mentally. It was months for me before I realized that coming home to New York actually started to feel like it. Like there was a chance for a new start. That there was a real life for me to live. I wasn’t sure if Bucky had that yet. And I’m sure tonight, he realized there was still more for him.”

She watched him carefully, her hands running up his neck. She hadn’t considered it before. Hadn’t supposed that the war hadn’t immediately felt over for them once they were back home. That subconsciously they both supposed they’d be back to it sooner than later. Or that every single day still felt like they were in the midst of war.

“You were part of that moment for me,” Steve whispered.

She paused her tousling of his hair.

“Me?”

“Yeah,” he said, clearing his throat. “I had a dream about you. Right after I started painting your wall of poppies. I was waiting for you in the middle of a dance floor. I was in my dress uniform and I didn’t feel stupid standing there all by myself at all. Then you were there, dressed in uniform too. You told me the war was over. I couldn’t stop picturing it. You and me. Your words. I knew it was a dream but I believed you. It was a reminder that there was a life that I wanted to have. How meeting you was so significant. And that alone shook me out of the hole I had closed myself into since my coma.”

She pressed a kiss to his brow.

“You mean so much to me Peggy. You were a reminder that I could finally be home. That maybe, someday, somehow, you’d be my home.”

Her heart ricocheted in her chest.

“You’re more than just my support system Peg. More than just a girlfriend.”

She rolled them, pressing him onto his back, hovering over him.

“I love you too Steve.”

He smiled up at her so perfectly happy it made her insides melt. He pressed her against him, kissing her full of passion.

After a few moments, she rolled back onto her side, Steve shifting his head to rest on her chest. She returned to playing with his hair, watching as exhaustion won out on his face, and Steve drifted off in a hurry.

“Love you,” he murmured in a pleased sleepy slur.

It was entirely too late, and yet she didn’t succumb to sleep. She wondered at what point New York had started feeling like a real home to her. When exactly that moment had happened.

Peggy continued to gently run her fingers through Steve’s hair, deep in thought as the sounds of Steve’s steady breaths filled the room. She knew he was fast asleep, nose brushing her clavicle, arm slack around her. It made her smile, feeling content as she took in her surroundings. The bedroom she’d had for more than a year now. The crisp blue and white against the deep wood accents. Casa Blanca. And the peacefulness of a seashore. She could hardly remember what it looked like, what I felt like before. Before Steve. Her gaze drifted over to her vanity, where alongside the framed photo of Steve at boot camp, rested a family photo from her childhood. The single painted poppy hanging on the wall, the one Steve had made for her in remembrance of Michael, seemed to twinkle at her in the moonlight.

She smiled at it and looked down at the man sleeping in her hold. What a difference a few months could make. What loving Steve could change.

Yes, she definitely felt at home.

 


End file.
